Enigma
by DawnieS
Summary: Chris revelation story. With his time running out and the entire future resting on his shoulders, Chris takes drastic measures to save Wyatt. To protect his brother, he finds himself selling his soul to the devil – literally.
1. The Devil's Eyes

Enigma

Summary: [Chris revelation story] With his time running out and the entire future resting on his shoulders, Chris takes drastic measures to save Wyatt. To protect his brother, he finds himself selling his soul to the devil – literally.

AN: My first foray into Charmed fanfiction... The prologue starts soon after _Chris-Crossed_ and ends at the end of _Prince Charmed_.

* * *

><p>Prologue: The Devil's Eyes<p>

Blue eyes.

They haunted him. Once they had been kind, protective, loving. Once, they had looked at him with compassion and understanding. But things had changed – _they_ had changed – and what had once glowed with warmth turned to ice. Malice. Fury.

He saw them in his mind every morning when he slowly opened his own eyes and blinked away the last vestiges of sleep, ready to face an exhausting world. They lingered even after the rest of the nightmares had faded and the harshness of reality slapped him in the face. Disembodied, forever burned into his memory, mocking him.

Sometimes he saw different eyes. Brown ones, or hazel. Memories of his mother, his aunts, his cousins. Sometimes the brown was darker, almost black, and hypnotic in its beauty. Vague images of his fiancée.

But they always merged together and changed, the colors slowly becoming blue.

Blue eyes.

* * *

><p>The Underworld was not as dark or dismal as the students of Magic School had always been lead to believe. That was something that had surprised Chris the first time he had tracked a demon back to its lair. Certainly, some of the places were the expected clichéd caves or caverns, complete with flickering torches and the stench of congealing blood. But others were actually more like rooms, stone walls covered in paintings, a heavy carpet along the floor, and a roaring fire in a magically-created fireplace.<p>

It was in one of these rooms that Chris found himself now, facing a rather seductive-looking sorceress.

"Do you have anything to tell me, Lola?" Chris demanded, striding towards her.

Lola, reclining comfortably in an overstuffed armchair, flicked red hair out of her sparkling eyes and quirked cherry red lips into a smirk. "Impatient as ever, white-lighter," she drawled, rolling her eyes at him. She interlaced her long fingers and added casually, "There have been some rumors of activity. Whether or not they focus solely on the Twice Blessed is hard to determine…" She trailed off with a shrug. "He is always a target."

Chris folded his arms over his chest. "Did you call me all the way down here just to tell me that you don't have anything concrete?" he demanded in annoyance.

"Someone is in a bad mood…" She rose gracefully to her feet and crossed to his side. Trailing the tips of her fingers down his cheek, she murmured, "Did you have a bad day?"

He caught her wrist deftly and held it away from him. "You are trying my patience."

She snorted. "I didn't realize you _had_ patience."

"I don't," Chris snapped. "Not right now." Not so soon after his trip to the future.

The emotions were too raw. He could still see Wyatt's cold expression, could still hear those last, final, painful words…

_I don't need you._

And he could so easily remember Bianca's broken body, the blood pooling in her stomach as she took her last shuddering breaths. Wyatt's words and actions had finally snapped the bond between the two brothers, tearing them irrevocably apart. It was over, and there was no going back.

That monster was no longer his brother.

"So I see," Lola remarked. She turned away from him, the hem of her long skirt swishing over the ground as she walked. The skirt, a dark blue, covered her legs, but the top she wore exposed her entire stomach and lower back. Bracelets jangled as they clattered against each other on her wrists.

"Lola…" There was a clear warning in his tone.

She cast a smile over her shoulder, beguiling and enticing. "Darling," she cooed, "have I ever _not_ delivered?"

"So tell me what you know," Chris snapped irritably.

"And what do I get in return?"

Her question was light, teasing, and her gaze was suggestive. She raised one eyebrow, clearly an invitation.

But Chris was in no mood for her games, not while he was still recovering from the pain of Bianca's death. Quick as he could, he was abruptly in front of her, an athame pressed against the pale skin of her neck, nearly drawing blood.

"I'll let you live. But only if you talk. And quickly."

Lola pulled back from him, pouting. "You are absolutely no fun," she said, her tone becoming more businesslike. "Alright, white-lighter. I will tell you. It is quite simple, actually. But it has nothing to do with the Halliwell child."

"Then I am not interested," Chris retorted disgust. "And you are just wasting my time."

"Not interested? Even when it has to do with the rise of someone far more powerful than the Source?"

Chris hesitated. "Could this demon have an interest in Wyatt?"

Lola shook her head. "It is unlikely. And he isn't a demon." She walked back to the armchair, lowering herself gracefully onto the cushions. "But the signs have come to pass, and the stars have reached alignment. No longer will he be cast aside. The time has come."

Chris clicked his tongue impatiently. "Stop speaking in riddles."

Lola smirked, a wicked glint in her eyes. "As you wish," she said. "Lucifer is rising."

"Lucifer?" Chris repeated, eyes widening. "You mean… _Satan_? The Devil?"

She inclined her head. "The one and only. And he is _very_ interested in you."

Chris shook his head, not quite able to believe it. Lucifer was… well, quite simply, he was the devil. He was dangerous, he was never to be trusted. The Charmed Ones had only come across him once in their entire time fighting the forces of evil, and that would not be for several years in the future. For the most part, Lucifer stayed behind the scenes, manipulating people, feeding on souls, but rarely showing his face.

But Chris knew it was bad to get involved with the devil.

Coming to his senses, he pushed away his surprise and said harshly. "Tell him I am _not_ interested. And don't call me unless you have something worthwhile to report."

As he orbed away, he heard Lola's sultry voice calling after him, "If you change your mind, you know where to find me…"

* * *

><p>Several days later, Chris wearily shook the exhaustion from his wiry frame as he shoved open the door to the back room at P3, and found, to his annoyance, that his plans for sleep would have to wait. Lola was waiting for him, lounging on his sofa with her trademark smirk.<p>

"Hello, lover boy," she taunted, rising to her feet at his entrance.

"I told you not to bother me unless you had something I would be interested in," Chris snapped, shutting the door behind him. "Do you have anything?"

Lola walked closer to him, but he stepped away from her, turning his back to signal his disinterest. She laughed and shook her head, clearly amused by his attempts to stay distant.

"You should give in to the inevitable," Lola purred, sidling up behind him. "I _always_ get what I want."

"Not interested," he said firmly. "Tell me something useful," he stepped around the table to put more distance between them, "or get out."

"Dark-lighters are being recruited."

Chris gave her his full attention now, obviously intrigued by that comment. "For what?" he asked, both worried and hopeful. If this was a lead, if this could point him in the right direction…

"I don't know," Lola admitted. "But they aren't the only ones organizing. There are rumors of an old sect of demons who are rising, looking to resurrect their fallen leader. And the… the _thing_… has been growing, absorbing more energy."

"The giant green blob?" Chris asked with a derisive snort. He sincerely doubted that _that_ was what had turned Wyatt evil, particularly given that it had no conscious thought. It was, quite simply, a blob that absorbed magic.

Still… he really could not afford to discount anything right now. Particularly given how little time he had to identify and stop the threat.

"Oh… and you might want to consider keeping an eye on the portals out of hell. Let's just say an old friend of yours is looking to emerge back into this world… and that would be quite a _scare_."

"Barbus," Chris muttered. "Great. Just what I need." Running a hand through his hair, he repeated, "Dark-lighters, ancient sects, green blobs, the Demon of Fear."

"They aren't the only ones searching for power, white-lighter. And they certainly are not the only ones who might have an interest in the Twice Blessed Child," Lola cautioned. "I can only name a few, but there are countless others. Perhaps you would do well to make a list and convince the Charmed Ones to eliminate the threats… one by one…"

It wasn't a bad idea, Chris thought to himself, but why would a sorceress be offering him this much information and this much advice? What did she hope to get in return?

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

"Why are you telling me this?"

She reached into a pocket near the waist of her skirt and withdrew a small piece of paper, stiff as cardboard and about the size of a business card. It was a deep red, like blood, and had silver writing on it.

She flipped it onto the table between them.

"The information did not originate from me," she said casually. "Consider it an… olive branch."

She shimmered away, and Chris cautiously picked up the card as though worried it might burn him. He turned it over and stared at the writing. In elaborate silver letters, it said _Lucifer_.

* * *

><p>Time passed as it always did, because no matter how much Chris would have liked to slow each day to a crawl, he could not prevent the inevitable turning of the Earth. Time passed, threats were eliminated, and yet still the danger remained, looming ever-present in his mind.<p>

He sat on the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, his knees pulled into his chest, staring out into the night. Leo had come and gone, leaving his words of advice lingering in the air. As though somehow they could offer any guidance or comfort at all.

But what could Leo, or anyone else, say that could ease the pain of those hateful words Piper had uttered…?

_Chris, we don't need your help. I will get my son back myself, and when I do, I never want to see you again._

Green eyes blinked several times, keeping at bay the tears he could not let show. How much more would he be forced to endure, how much more could he stand to lose? The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and he wanted nothing more than to throw his hands up in defeat, wave a white flag, surrender. He wanted this to be over.

Every day, he slammed his emotions shut behind steel walls in his mind and refused to dwell on what had happened, what he had said and done, and what had been said and done to him. It was easier that way. He did not have to face the past, did not have to worry about the consequences of his actions in the future. He could shake hands with demons one moment and speak to Elders the next, and it didn't matter because in the end, if he could save Wyatt, it would all be worth it.

Except… would it?

Would it be worth it, saving his brother but losing the rest of his family in the process?

…_never want to see you again…_

"Bad day?"

Chris had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had not heard or seen the telltale ripple in the air. But Lola was suddenly standing across from him on the other tower, staring at him through the dark night. The expression on her face was almost… sympathetic.

Almost.

"What do you want?" Chris demanded harshly, not in the mood for her games.

"Darling," Lola drawled, "I only want to help. There is no reason to get so… moody."

Chris clenched his hands into fists, his nails biting into his palms. "I've had a bad day," he said through clenched teeth, "and unless you want to be vanquished, I suggest…"

"Sweetheart," Lola murmured, shaking her head, "I _know_ you've had a bad day. Your pain is practically radiating from you." She sat down on the tower, playing with a few strands of red hair and staring into the distance with a contemplative expression. "You stopped the Order."

"The ancient sect looking to resurrect their leader," Chris muttered, repeating the sorceress' words from their last meeting. "And the green blob. I made a list. The Charmed Ones are… were… working on it." He lowered his gaze with a heavy sigh. He had no idea if they would still be vanquishing the evils on the list now that they no longer trusted him.

"No sign of Barbus? No luck with the dark-lighters?" Lola prompted.

Chris snapped angry eyes to her face. "Still working on those two," he hissed, "but I'm guessing you already knew that. Spying on me, I presume?"

Lola shrugged, unabashed. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't seeing any other sorceresses behind my back," she answered with a wink. "I don't like to share."

Chris exhaled slowly. "Unless you have something to tell me…" he started, but Lola cut him off.

"I warned you about the Order."

Chris frowned at her, confused as to why she was bringing up that point. He couldn't argue with her, she had given him warning about the ancient sect. But what did it matter? Her information certainly had not helped him stop the Order, and they had managed to kidnap Wyatt all the same.

"So?" he sneered.

She met his gaze, her own dark eyes flickering with mocking. "It didn't help you, did it? I told you to watch out for them, I told you they were a threat. But even with my guidance, you could not stop them until _after_ they had nearly succeeded in their goal." She shimmered from her tower to his, appearing right before him. Kneeling at his side, she rested a hand on his knees and murmured, "Do you really think you can succeed without help?"

Chris pushed her hand away. "Go away, Lola."

"No," she answered, leaning closer. "Not until you hear me out."

He could smell her perfume, a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon and something dangerous and exotic. Her eyes were hypnotic, her smile seductive, her movements mesmerizing. But it was her words, silky and laced with honey, that were the most tantalizing of all.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have power on your side? You _know_ what he can do, what he could accomplish for you. Just think… you could stop this. No more sleepless nights, no more risky vanquishes, no more fights with the Charmed Ones. No more worries. Tell me that isn't _exactly_ what you want…"

"No…" Chris whispered. "I can't…"

Except that he could. It would be so easy. And wouldn't it be worth it? He could fix everything, save the future… And at this point, what did he have left to lose?

He simply could not take another argument with the sisters. He could not look into Piper's cold eyes and listen to her harsh words and _not_ fall apart.

_I will get my son back myself, and when I do, I never want to see you again. Understand?_

He looked at Lola. "Fine," he said slowly, softly. "If he is still interested in me…"

"Oh, trust me, white-lighter," Lola murmured in reply, "Lucifer is _quite_ interested in you."

"Indeed I am."

Lola rose to her feet at the sound of the other voice, and Chris uncurled his legs and looked at the newcomer. He was tall, perhaps a few inches taller than Chris, and had dark brown hair and a steady gaze hidden behind black sunglasses. He was dressed all in black and was smiling; not a cold smile, but certainly not a friendly one.

Chris had expected Lucifer to have hooves for feet, or a forked tongue and pointed tail, or horns. He'd expected him to carry a trident or a pitchfork, to appear in a burst of flame accompanied by crashes of cymbals and the blaring of a trumpet. He'd expected someone who looked… well, _evil_. But this man… Lucifer, Satan, the Devil… he looked… ordinary.

Except for the aura of power that lingered over him, so incredibly strong that it threatened to overwhelm Chris. It was almost unimaginable what sort of power this being had at his disposal. And yet, Chris thought grimly, he should not have expected anything else.

The witch-lighter rose unsteadily to his feet. "Wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night," he commented dryly. "Odd."

Lola moved to stand beside Lucifer, her arms folded lazily across her chest, her head tilted to the side as she watched the scene unfold before her.

"Do they bother you?" Lucifer asked. He reached up and removed them, carelessly waving his hand and causing them to disappear. Then he turned his clear gaze back to Chris. "I must say, I have been _most_ eager to meet you, Christopher."

The devil, Chris reflected ironically as he stared at the man before him, had blue eyes.


	2. A Partial Glimpse

Chapter One: A Partial Glimpse

An Elder.

A freaking _Elder_.

He wanted to start swearing. In fact, he probably would have started, uttering every possible curse that came to mind, except for Lola. He couldn't swear in front of a woman. It didn't matter that she was a demon, and that she probably knew far more colorful language than he ever would. It didn't matter that he despised her with every fiber of his being. It didn't matter that, if there was ever a time to swear, it would have been right at that moment, at the exact point in time when he discovered that one of the ultimate _paragons of Good_ was going to turn his brother evil.

His mother had raised him to watch his language around women, and so he kept his lips pressed tightly together and fought back the urge to curse.

But still… an _Elder_?

Lucifer was reclining on a leather sofa in yet another lavish and decadent Underworld haunt. Lola was standing behind him, her lips quirked into that smirk that seemed to be forever plastered to her features. Both of them were staring at Chris, and Lucifer had raised an eyebrow as if to ask, _Well, what did you expect?_

An _Elder_.

No way. No freaking way. This wasn't possible.

And yet…

Lucifer might be all powerful, but he had rules he had to follow as well. And one of them was that he couldn't lie.

"Did you get what you wanted?" Lucifer asked.

Chris was silent for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. It wasn't enough, he realized with a jolt. Lucifer might be able to give him a few meager details, but it wasn't nearly enough. He didn't know _when_ the Elder would go after Wyatt and he didn't know _how_ he would succeed in turning the Twice Blessed evil. More importantly, he didn't know if the Elder was working alone.

What if he wasn't? What if multiple Elders were after Wyatt?

But none of it even made sense. It still didn't explain _why_ an Elder would want to turn Wyatt evil.

"I need more," he said finally, looking at Lucifer. "I need answers. All of them. Not just these… these cryptic hints."

"Cryptic hints?" Lucifer repeated, a definite mocking tone to his voice. "You asked to know who turns your dear little Wyatt Halliwell evil, and I told you. That's hardly a _cryptic hint_."

"But it doesn't make any sense!" Chris snapped.

"Are you accusing me of lying?" Lucifer questioned, bemused. "Now, now, white-lighter, I thought you knew better than that."

Chris exhaled in frustration and turned away from the devil and the sorceress. His head hurt. It was throbbing painfully, as though someone was repeatedly stabbing him in the forehead with a red-hot knife. He needed to sleep. He desperately needed to sleep. But how could he do that now, when he was so close to succeeding?

Then a depressing thought occurred to him. He still had to deal with the Charmed Ones and Leo. They hardly trusted him now, and even though Leo had expressed some small level of belief in his words after the incident with the Order, it wouldn't be enough. They would never believe that an Elder was after Wyatt, particularly given the source of the information.

So what was he supposed to do? March back into the Manor and inform them that the _devil_ had told him not to trust the Elders?

Somehow, he didn't think that would go over to well.

Particularly given the identity of the Elder…

He spun around to face Lucifer once more. "At least tell me if Gideon is working alone," he said, half-requesting, half-demanding.

Lucifer smirked and remarked sardonically, "Aren't you a bit demanding for a boy who spent so long refusing my help?" He leaned forward, gazing intently at Chris. "You should learn to open up a bit more. You're so closed off, Christopher. It is quite a problem."

"Open up?" Chris repeated disbelievingly. "A paragon of Good is going to try to turn my brother evil and you think my problem is that I'm not trusting enough?"

Lucifer shook his head and sighed. "So stubborn," he said in mock disappointment. "Kids these days…"

Chris felt an almost uncontrollable desire to punch the devil in the face. Lucifer was providing him with the answers he had desperately sought. Lucifer was giving him a chance to stop this, to save his family and the rest of the world. But he was smirking the whole damn time, and Chris wanted nothing more than to wipe that self-satisfied expression off the devil's face.

And Lucifer could tell this. "Temper, temper," he chided. "You wouldn't want to do anything rash, would you?"

He was clearly getting quite a bit of amusement out of the entire situation.

Chris clenched his hands into fists and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.

"You wanted to know who turned Wyatt Halliwell evil, and I provided the information," Lucifer said, rising to his feet. "I've upheld my end of the bargain. What you do with this information is now entirely up to you." And without another word, he was gone.

Chris closed his eyes. Either Lucifer didn't know anything else – and that seemed remarkably unlikely – or he knew more but was holding his cards in a closed hand, unwilling to let go of all of his secrets quite yet. He still had the upper hand and he knew it.

Who knew the kind of damage the devil could do with the information he still had locked away?

"Darling," he heard Lola murmur, and he opened his eyes to see her standing directly in front of him, "don't look so glum."

He glared at her. "I still don't know how…" he started, but Lola cut him off.

"You didn't ask _how_. You asked _who_." The sorcerers trailed the tips of her fingers down his chest. "And he told you who. So now you know quite a bit more than you did before. There's no reason to be so grumpy."

He shoved her away. "Get out, Lola," he snarled.

She tilted her head to the side. "As you wish," she answered softly, and shimmered away.

As soon as she was out of the room, Chris curled his hand into a fist and slammed it into the wall. He felt the sudden crunch of his bones as they hit the stone with incredible force, and looked down in time to see blood seep out from the broken skin on his knuckles.

An Elder.

A freaking _Elder_.

* * *

><p>She knew she was overreacting. Everyone kept telling her that – Leo included. She had redecorated Wyatt's entire nursery, replacing anything red or black with shades of light blue and soft yellow. She'd even insisted on repainting the walls a lemon cream color in the hopes that this would somehow inspire her son to be warm and happy all the time.<p>

Wasn't yellow supposed to be a happy color?

She didn't want to believe Chris. The white-lighter had done nothing but lie and manipulate them since his arrival, and for him to spout something as preposterous as Wyatt turning evil… It couldn't be true. It just _couldn't_.

But it was. She had felt it, felt this heavy truth settling onto her chest as Chris uttered those hated words. And she'd known then – even if it would take a lot longer for her accept it – that her baby boy was going to become the Source of All Evil.

She didn't want to believe it, but that didn't make it any less true.

Which was why she had redecorated Wyatt's nursery, and it was why she was now flipping through a parenting magazine, reading an article on how to teach children not to bully others. The child in the article had shoved another child into the sandbox and stolen a toy doll, and that wasn't anywhere near the same thing as taking over the world, but she didn't know where else to turn. Who could give her guidance on this?

"Piper?"

The Halliwell matriarch looked up at the sound of her name. Phoebe had entered the sunroom and was giving her an odd look.

"Are my emotions too loud for you?" Piper asked with a heavy sigh. It would have been so easy to make that remark sound snide and even petulant, but she knew just how much stress was currently present in the house, and she had seen the burden it was placing on Phoebe, even _after_ they had taken the empathy-blocking potion. Her middle sister seemed to be getting quite a bit less sleep than usual, and there were dark circles underneath her eyes.

But Phoebe just waved off the concern and sat down across from Piper. "Do you want to talk about anything?" she asked tentatively.

"Let me guess," Piper said tiredly, "Leo's worried that I've gone off the deep end and sent you to talk to me. _Again_."

"Well, I think he'd like to talk to you himself, sweetie, but last time he tried, you threatened to blow him up," Phoebe replied pointedly.

"He said I was overreacting. All I wanted to do was get rid of those stupid red shoes that…"

"That Leo gave to Wyatt just a few weeks ago?" Phoebe cut in. "And the red fireman's hat that he bought…"

Piper snorted. She had a feeling Leo didn't mind her getting rid of that one as much, even if he had been the one to buy it for Wyatt. After all, he'd gotten it before he'd known about Greg, and now that she was dating a fireman, he likely didn't want Wyatt owning anything that reminded him of that particular profession.

But the shoes were a different story. Leo had gotten them for Wyatt, and Wyatt did seem to like them, and she had decided to get rid of them…

And Leo had been upset about that.

"They're just a pair of shoes," Phoebe said after a moment. "They aren't what turns Wyatt."

"You don't know that!" Piper snapped, her patience wearing thin. "We don't… we don't know _anything_! All we know is that my only child turns evil! How can I…" She rubbed her eyes, sagging against the sofa. "What kind of mother am I?"

"This isn't your fault," Phoebe said firmly.

But Piper didn't believe that. How could she? After all, she was Wyatt's mother. It was her job to protect him, to teach him, to help him grow into his destiny, and somehow she had failed at all of that.

Maybe she just wasn't cut out to be a mother.

Before she could voice any more concerns, however, the air was filled with the sounds of chimes and blue and white lights appeared. They coalesced a moment later, forming Chris.

Piper glared at him.

He took a step back from the heat of her gaze, and quickly shifted his attention to Phoebe. But her expression matched Piper's, though there was slightly less hostility.

He cleared his throat. "Good, you're both here. Is Paige around?"

"No, she has a temp job or something," Piper replied coolly. "What do you want, Chris?"

After the disaster with the Order, she had only very reluctantly allowed him back into her house, mostly due to Leo's persuasion. She didn't want to see him; she hadn't been lying or even exaggerating when she told him that. But Leo seemed to think that he could be trusted – or, at least, that his good intentions should be trusted – and had convinced her to give him access to the Book.

She had agreed, but she hadn't been happy about it.

She didn't blame him for telling them about Wyatt, though she knew that he believed she did. At the time, she had been furious with him for what he had said, but once the truth had really sunk in, once she realized that _that_ had not been a lie, she had stopped being angry with him for his words. She knew better than to blame the messenger just because she didn't like the message.

But all his manipulations, trying to get them to bind Wyatt's powers… the lies he had told for the first several months he'd been here… not to mention the fact that she was fairly certain Leo was right, and Chris was responsible for sending him to Valhalla…

She blamed him for all of that, and she had no intention of forgiving him any time soon.

Chris looked uneasy, and he ran a hand through his hair, then he said, "I've heard some… rumors. In the… the Underworld."

"Ah, yes," Piper said sarcastically, "let's trust the demons. That always works out well."

"They were right about the Order," Chris said, and then immediately looked as though he wished he hadn't brought it up. Piper narrowed her gaze at him, and Phoebe's expression hardened. Chris looked away, then said quickly, almost desperate to change the subject, "I don't think we should discount the rumors."

Piper had a very different point of view on that subject, and would have launched into a litany of reasons why trusting demons was never a good idea, but Phoebe spoke up before she could say anything.

"What are the rumors?"

"They're saying that… well, that an Elder has been in the Underworld. Dealing with demons."

Piper laughed, although the sound seemed hollow even to her own ears. "An Elder?" she repeated. "You think an Elder turned evil? That's insane."

She might not be among the Elders biggest fans, particularly after Leo had left her to join them, but she couldn't believe that any of them would turn. They were the leaders of Good, dedicated to helping the innocent. They could be conniving, judgmental, and demanding, but they simply weren't evil.

Besides, if one turned, wouldn't the others sense it? Wouldn't they _notice_? And why was _Chris_ the only one hearing these rumors? If an Elder really was wandering through the Underworld making deals with evil, everyone would be talking about it. _She_ would have heard these rumors by now.

"It's not insane, Piper," Chris defended himself. "Think about it. If an Elder turns, becomes evil, then Evil gains an incredibly powerful ally, but they also gain an ally that Good inherently trusts. And that's what they need to get to Wyatt. A demon would have to fight its way past the three of you to get to Wyatt, but an Elder… you'd never suspect him. He could just walk into Wyatt's nursery and…"

"Don't be ridiculous," Piper dismissed him.

"I'm _not_!"

"Yes, you are. Instead of looking for the real threat to Wyatt, you're wasting all of our time with these absurd theories," Piper argued. "We don't have time for this, Chris."

"Can't you just trust me?" Chris asked sharply.

This time it was Phoebe who answered. "Trust you?" she repeated incredulously. "_Trust_ you?"

"Don't you think it is a little late for that?" Piper added bitterly. "We tried to trust you. We defended you to Leo every time he accused you of being responsible for sending him to Valhalla or whatever other wrong thing he thought you did, and it turned out that he was probably right all along. You _aren't_ trustworthy."

"This is Wyatt! This is your son. You can't just _not_ investigate this rumor. Something is going to get to him, corrupt him. Don't you _care_?"

Piper was out of her seat before she could stop herself, her hand raised to strike Chris. He froze, eyes widening in fear, hurt, and resignation at her action, and that odd combination of emotions, more than anything else, was what made her restrain herself from slapping him.

Chris stared at her warily as she dropped her arm.

"Don't you dare accuse me of not caring about my son," Piper said in a low, venomous voice. "Don't you _dare_."

"I-I'm… sorry," Chris stammered, eyes switching between Piper's livid expression and Phoebe's look of disdain.

"Get out, Chris. Just _get out_," Piper spat.

Chris obeyed instantly, disappearing in a swirl of blue and white lights.

Piper sank back onto the sofa and buried her head in her hands.

* * *

><p>It was misty. The white of Up There was omnipresent – in the marble floor and columns, in the ornate doors and arches, in the fog that swirled around everything. Even the white-lighters wore white robes over their clothing, the heavy uniform hiding any color that might have shown through.<p>

Only the Elders' golden robes stood out against the backdrop of white.

It was into this expanse of white dotted with the occasional gold that Leo orbed. He wasn't wearing his traditional golden robes, and had no intention of putting them on, so his jeans and flannel shirt made him seem very out of place. He didn't mind that, though, because despite the few months he had spent as an Elder, despite the fact that he truly believed this was his calling, he still didn't feel quite right in this role.

He didn't like the looks of awe that were directed his way by members of the magical community, didn't like the deference white-lighters used when they spoke to him, and _really_ did not like the fact that Piper had now lumped him in with all the other Elders, with beings she so frequently couldn't stand.

An Elder approached him. She was female, and she gave his jeans a disapproving look, but did not comment.

"Aravis," he said by way of greeting.

"Leo," she replied. "Walk with me."

Leo obeyed the request and fell into step along side her. She was silent for a while, refusing to speak as they passed by a clump of white-lighters. Whatever she had to say was not something she wanted many others to know, and that worried Leo.

A lot of things worried him.

Clearly, a lot of things worried Aravis, too. Her expression was grim, and there were lines of anxiety on her forehead and at the corners of her eyes.

After some more silence, she finally said, "We have heard a troubling rumor."

"Oh?" Leo prompted. They always heard troubling rumors. In fact, it was part of their job. Most information the Elders received and synthesized came from rumors, most of which originated in the less savory parts of the Underworld. In some ways, they were little more than gossiping teenagers, and wasn't that just ironic?

"If it is true," Aravis continued, "we may be facing a problem unlike any that we have experienced in a long time."

"Worse than the Titans?" Leo asked, surprised.

"Far worse," Aravis said grimly. She paused, and turned to face Leo completely. He stopped as well, and waited for her to say something, but she remained silent.

"Well?" he pushed, feeling frustrated. Why couldn't she just tell him what she'd heard? Why did Elders always have to be so annoyingly cryptic?

Aravis tucked a few strands of hair behind one ear and adjusted the hood of her golden robe. She looked older than most Elders, and Leo knew that she _was_ older than them, too. Some said she was one of the first Elders ever, and although Leo doubted that was true, he didn't doubt that she had been around for a long time.

And she was afraid. She had lived through multiple Sources, through the Titans and other Greek gods, through various attacks on the Heavens… and this – whatever it was – scared her.

"Aravis," he said anxiously, "what is it? What have you heard?"

"Lucifer has risen."

* * *

><p>"Lucifer? You mean… the devil? Satan? The fallen angel who rebelled against God? He's <em>real<em>?" Paige asked skeptically, leaning against the wall of the attic and folding her arms over her chest.

Leo nodded.

Paige glanced over at the Book of Shadows resting on the podium in the center of the attic. "Is he in the Book?"

"Paige, he more than predates the Book. He predates the written word," Leo replied. "He predates the spoken word."

"Of course he does," Paige muttered sourly.

"How is it even possible to predate the spoken word?" Phoebe demanded. "People could speak long before they could write. All they had do was make sounds."

"He predates language," Leo explained.

"So, if there is a devil, does that mean there is also a God?" Piper asked from her spot on the worn pink sofa.

"Well, we know that there is a higher power," Phoebe reasoned. "After all, the Elders exist."

"But the Elders aren't God," Piper replied. "We also know that there is an angel of Destiny…"

"Actually, there are multiple angels of Destiny," Leo interrupted.

"…but I don't really think he's God, either," Piper finished, ignoring Leo's comment. "So is there one all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful being that is responsible for the creation of the world and mankind and all that?"

"I thought you believed in God," Phoebe said, glancing at Piper in confusion. "You spent so much time being afraid you were evil and would be unable to enter a church when we first got our powers, remember? Remember when Pastor Williams told you that the Bible said you should kill all witches…?"

"Thou shall not suffer a witch to live," Piper murmured. It had been a long time since she had thought about those first few nerve-wracking weeks of being a witch. Phoebe was right; she had been terrified that being given these supernatural powers meant that she was evil. But time had passed and she'd seen true evil, and she had stopped worrying about her own morality.

"I wonder what Lucifer looks like," Paige said thoughtfully. "Do you think he has cloven hooves and horns?"

"Maybe… maybe he's a shape-shifter and can take on any form he chooses," Phoebe suggested.

"This still doesn't answer the question of whether or not there is a God," Piper interjected.

"We need to focus on what Lucifer is actually doing, not what he may or may not look like," Leo said, breaking into the conversation with a slight edge to his voice. He was used to the sisters interspersing random bits of information about their personal lives into all their conversations about magic, and he had never minded it before. He knew part of their strength lay in the fact that they could bond both as sisters and as powerful witches. But this was different.

Lucifer was different.

Piper gave him a look, one of those that reminded him quite clearly that he was no longer her husband _or_ white-lighter.

"Lucifer is dangerous," he said.

"We could use the same Power of Three spell we used on the Source," Paige suggested. "The magic of the entire Halliwell line should be enough to vanquish him. Right?"

"No," Leo said bluntly, shaking his head. "It's not. It won't be. You can't vanquish him."

"Ugh, does that mean we need to turn into goddesses again?" Phoebe asked with a note of complaint in her voice. "Because I did not like that."

"I don't know," Paige said slyly, "you seemed to be enjoying yourself at that bachelor auction."

Phoebe flushed scarlet.

"Well, seeing as I very nearly lost my humanity," Piper said, "I'm with Phoebe. Let's avoid turning into goddesses."

"You aren't taking this seriously enough!" Leo said angrily, frowning at each of the sisters in turn. Piper was still giving him _that_ look, and now both Phoebe and Paige were scowling at him as well.

"Leo, chill," Paige said softly, a hint of surprise in her voice at the vehemence that had been in his tone. Leo had always been the far more serious member of their family, although their new white-lighter was even more extreme in his dedication to fighting evil. But it had been a long time since she had seen Leo look this put out, and it bothered her. It was almost as though he was turning into Chris.

Phoebe, who had known Leo longer, found herself thinking of the Leo they had known years ago, back before he and Piper were married. He'd been more a stickler for rules then, but he'd never gotten this angry with them.

Leo ran a hand through his hair. "Lucifer can't be vanquished," he said.

"What do you mean he can't be vanquished?" Piper asked. "That's not possible. No demon is completely invulnerable…" she turned to her sisters for support, "right?"

"He's not a demon," Leo answered.

"Fine. Fallen angel. Whatever he is, he can be vanquished. We just need to find a strong enough spell to…"

"You _can't_," Leo said again. "Don't you understand? I'm not telling you that Lucifer is hard to vanquish. I'm not telling you that you need more power. I'm telling you that it simply _can't_ be done."

Piper felt a chill run down her spine at those words. She didn't want to believe them – wouldn't have believed them – except that Leo was always the one who believed that they could do anything if they just tried hard enough, and for him to now be telling the three sisters that they couldn't defeat someone…

She sent a sidelong look towards Paige and Phoebe, and saw that they appeared to be just as upset as she was.

Leo started pacing. "Lucifer is… well, we aren't quite sure what he is. But he's the beginning of evil. He's chaos and darkness and misery. He spreads discord and turns people against each other, injects everyone with hopelessness…" He trailed off for a moment, a look of contemplation on his features, before saying, "He's what _started_ evil."

"So he's all-powerful and pure evil," Paige said. "What _fun_." But the horror of the situation seemed to have finally sunk in, and her quip lacked its usual humor.

"He's not all-powerful," Leo corrected. "In fact, as far as power goes, he doesn't have anywhere near as much as you would think. He doesn't have any offensive magical abilities."

"No fireballs or telekinesis or whatnot?" Phoebe asked hopefully. "Well, that's good, right? He can't kill us."

"He can't kill you himself, at least not magically," Leo corrected. "But he can still have you killed."

"He has minions?" Paige asked.

"No," Leo said with a shake of his head. "Well, sometimes he gets a few demons to work for him, but he doesn't need them. Mostly he works with sorceresses – they're his favorite kind of demon because they're power lies in charm and seduction, just like his – but often he works on his own." He stopped his pacing and sat down on a stool near the potions table. "His power lies in his ability to manipulate. He knows… well, he knows practically everything. And he can use that knowledge to his advantage. He can whisper in your ear, make you believe anything, make you turn on anyone. And the worst part is that it isn't mind control. You're still the one making the decisions, choosing the actions… and when it is all over and he's moved on, you have to live with the knowledge that you did this. _You_ destroyed everything. It was his lies, yes… but it was still your decision."

The room was silent as Leo paused to collect his thoughts. He doubted he could truly describe the horror of this fallen angel, doubted the Charmed Ones would ever really understand what he was like. But Leo still had to try, because Lucifer had risen, and that did not bode well for the world.

"He's torn apart entire civilizations by planting seeds of doubt and discord. He's sewn hatred and fury and contempt into human interactions. They say he's responsible for introducing the seven deadly sins to the world. He even convinced the Elders to attack each other once… they started a civil war that nearly killed the entire magical community… He's every dark thought you've ever had, every base desire, every reckless and hurtful action. And he does all of this without ever drawing attention to the fact that he is the one who is doing it."

"How come we've never faced him before?" Piper asked. It didn't make sense. They were the greatest force of Good the world had ever seen and he was the beginning of evil. Why had he never targeted them?

"Lucifer doesn't always walk the Earth. Sometimes, he just sits back and lets things happen. In fact, he mostly only shows himself if he sees something or someone whose destruction he will get a great amount of pleasure from, or if Good is too close to winning an important battle. He's been quiet for a long time, and I guess he never thought of the three of you as a threat."

"But… but we're the Charmed Ones!" Phoebe protested.

Leo shrugged. "And he's Lucifer," he replied. He didn't really want to elaborate on why Lucifer might not have viewed them as much of a threat. The fact of the matter was, no matter how powerful the three sisters were, they were still mortal, and they would still die. And Lucifer wouldn't.

It was probably not until Wyatt's birth, until the realization that the Halliwell line could culminate in more and more powerful witches, each generation greater than the next, that Lucifer had taken any notice of them. For all their power, the three sisters were still beneath his notice.

It was a depressing thought.

"Do you think… do you think he's after Wyatt?" Piper asked finally. It was a possibility she didn't want to consider, because if Lucifer was the one who turned Wyatt evil, and if he truly couldn't be vanquished, how was she supposed to protect her son?

"I don't know," Leo said heavily. "But I think… I think it is a definite possibility."

Piper felt physically sick.

"He also likes making deals with people," Leo added.

"Faustian deals?" Paige questioned.

Leo nodded. "Yes. He gives them what they think they want in exchange for their soul. But usually, what they think they want… well, he has a way of making it exactly what they _don't_ want. Their greatest nightmares come true, and yet he still gets their soul in the end. He likes destroying people, tearing them apart slowly, making them suffer, forcing them to realize that their suffering is all their fault. They are the ones that wanted the deal, they are the ones that brought this upon themselves… He likes causing pain, and it doesn't always have to be someone important. Sometimes he goes after an average, unimportant person. Sometimes he goes after a great leader. Most of the time, he just goes for whatever will be the hardest. He likes taking the most honorable people he can find and… and ruining them. He likes the _challenge_."

"Is he making deals now?" Piper asked.

Leo nodded again. "The Elders think he's working with a broker, probably a sorceress. We have to find her and vanquish her. We have to do anything we can to prevent him from making more deals. And… we… you three… you need to be careful." He looked at them all seriously. "Lucifer has risen, and for all we know, he's coming after you."

"Or Wyatt," Piper murmured.

"Or Wyatt," Leo agreed. "The Elders don't know exactly what he has planned, but… it _does_ seem likely that Lucifer will try to come after this family."


	3. Enemy of Mine

A/N: A couple people have asked if this is in any way a crossover with _Supernatural_. The answer to that is no. My Lucifer and Supernatural's Lucifer do share a few traits (because I am a fan of that show), but I've also drawn on other depictions of Lucifer to create the one in my story. So don't expect anything from the Supernatural fandom to show up in this story.

Chapter Two: Enemy of Mine

"Why is there nothing on Lucifer in the Book?" Paige grumbled, flipping through the tome once more. Leo had informed her that there wouldn't be, and it wasn't that she doubted it. It was just that, when they were confronted with something new, she was always the one who went to the Book. To have that taken from her now left her feeling helpless, and she didn't like that feeling.

"Leo said there wouldn't be," Piper replied quietly. She was standing by the window, staring out into nothing. Paige debated asking her what was wrong but then decided against it. Since Chris' revelation and the debacle with the Order, there was only one thing that mattered to her. And if Lucifer really was the one who turned Wyatt evil…

That was too horrible to even think about.

Phoebe rubbed her forehead wearily and Paige shot her a concerned glance. They'd all taken the empathy-blocking potion, but when things were really stressful, it wasn't enough. And things were clearly stressful now.

Phoebe noticed Paige's look and gave her sister a wan smile.

The room was suddenly filled with the bright white lights. Paige glanced up from the Book in time to see Chris appear out of the orbs, and then Piper turned from the window to look at Chris and they both stiffened.

Chris cleared his throat. "Uh… sorry. I didn't mean to… I just wanted to check something in the Book."

Paige glanced quickly at Piper. Phoebe had briefly filled her in on the latest argument with their white-lighter, and she was no more welcoming of his presence than Piper was. How could he have actually insinuated that Piper didn't care about what happened to Wyatt? And what made him think he could just orb back into the Manor as though he deserved another chance?

"Go ahead," Piper said in a clipped tone, gesturing towards the Book. There was anger in her eyes and the movements of her hands, and Chris flinched at the coldness of her words.

Paige rolled her eyes and stepped away from the Book. It was true that they hadn't found anything on Lucifer – and probably wouldn't – but she still didn't like the idea of allowing Chris' research to take precedence over their own. It was the principle of the matter; it was their Book, so he should be the one to wait until they were done with it.

Chris looked decidedly uncomfortable, but he did cross to the Book and take Paige's place.

"Any luck finding this Elder that you think has turned?" Piper continued, scorn in her voice.

"Still working on it," Chris answered vaguely, not looking at any of them.

Paige switched her attention to Phoebe again, and noticed that the empath was looking more and more drawn with every passing second. Chris' entrance hadn't seemed to help matters any, either. The tension in the room had skyrocketed, and Phoebe appeared exhausted.

"Maybe we should continue this conversation downstairs?" Paige suggested.

Piper was glaring at Chris, and it was incredibly evident that she didn't like the idea of leaving him alone with the Book. But when Paige jerked her head towards Phoebe in a silent signal, Piper seemed to get the message and gave a reluctant nod.

"Sure," she murmured. "Although I don't know what we can really do until Leo gets back with more information from the Elders. Lucifer seems…"

"Lucifer?" Chris cut in sharply, gaze snapping up from the Book to settle on Piper with an odd sort of intensity. "What about him?"

Piper's lips thinned into a very straight line, then she said, "The Elders think he's active again and are worried he might come after us or Wyatt. So we want to focus on that threat. Unless, of course, you think the Elders are lying to us as part of some nefarious plot…?" Her words were laced with derision as she concluded, "You know, something an evil Elder would have cooked up to get us killed."

Chris' eyes were wide as he asked tentatively, "What did they say about Lucifer? Do they know… do they know anything specific?"

"No, but they're working on it," Phoebe said wearily, still rubbing at her forehead. "And spare us the lecture on how serious of a threat Lucifer is. We've already gotten it from Leo."

Chris took a shaky breath, then said in a would-be nonchalant tone, "He might not be a threat at all."

"Not a threat?" Paige scoffed. "He's the beginning of all evil. How exactly is he _not_ a threat? He could be the one who goes after Wyatt." She narrowed her eyes at Chris and demanded, "Why aren't you rushing off to gather information on him like you do with all your other supposed leads?"

Chris swallowed nervously, then said, "I just don't think we can rule out other possibilities simply because Lucifer is active now. He might not be corrupting anyone. I mean… if he's just making deals…"

"Just?" Piper cut in incredulously. "_Just_? That would be stealing people's souls, Chris. How can you act like it isn't important? Like it doesn't matter? Like those people don't deserve to be saved?"

Chris shrugged unhappily. "Maybe they don't want to be saved. Maybe they know what they're doing." Off Piper's disbelieving and somewhat horrified look, Chris hurried on to explain, "Sometimes people are willing to sacrifice their souls for… for something else. They know the consequences and they… it is worth it. To them, it is worth it."

"Lucifer would probably just trick them," Paige said, drawing Chris' attention back towards herself. "He could lie and…"

But Chris shook his head stubbornly as he interrupted Paige's argument. "Lucifer doesn't lie."

"He's evil," Piper said. Chris was now looking down at the Book, and he didn't raise his gaze at Piper's words, but both Paige and Phoebe looked over at her "He's evil," Piper said again.

"So?" Chris asked softly.

"So stop wasting our time on your ridiculous suspicions about the Elders," Piper snapped. "You're only sticking to them because you're too stubborn to admit that maybe you're wrong about this. But my son is in danger and I am not going to let Lucifer get the upper hand here just because you don't want to face the facts."

Then she stalked from the attic and Phoebe quickly got up from the sofa and followed her out of sight. Paige gave Chris one last searching stare, unsure exactly what she was looking for in his expression, but he refused to meet her eyes. Then she, too, left the attic, following her irate eldest sister down the stairs.

Chris stared at the door for a moment, then muttered under his breath, "Lucifer already has the upper hand."

* * *

><p>It had been a very long time since Piper had set foot in a church for anything more than a wedding or a funeral. She hadn't sought out the advice of a pastor in nearly six years, mostly because she knew he wouldn't be able to help her with the problems she faced. The Bible made it quite clear that all witches were seen as evil, and she doubted she would be considered an exception to that rule, even if he had known about all the evil she had faced and defeated.<p>

So it felt odd to be here, now. But she wanted to talk to someone about Lucifer, and she didn't really know where else to go.

Pastor Easton settled himself into a seat across from Piper. He had brown hair and soft blue eyes and a smile that made Piper feel warm and safe. He had replaced Pastor Williams, the pastor Piper had known growing up, and he seemed to fit into this church just as well as his predecessor had.

"What can I do for you, Piper?" he asked gently.

Piper sighed. "It's a bit… well, odd," she admitted. "I just… I wanted to talk to you about the devil."

Pastor Easton's eyebrows rose toward his hairline, and he asked, "Anything in particular troubling you?"

"You probably don't get questions like this a lot," Piper said, smiling slightly.

"You might be surprised," the pastor replied. "Of course, usually they come from concerned parents whose children are dabbling in Wicca or devil worship or have been attracted to Goth culture." His eyes swept over Piper, giving her an appraising look, before he added, "I have a feeling you don't fall into that particular category."

Piper laughed. "My son isn't even a year old yet," she said. "I'm not worried about him." But even though she tried to keep her voice light and her words cheery, she couldn't help the feeling of defensiveness that rose in her chest at the mention of Wicca. Pastor Easton knew nothing about Wicca or magic, and it wasn't really fair of him to lump it together with satanic worship.

She pursed her lips and looked down at her hands. What had she expected to gain from this conversation? Did she really think Pastor Easton could in any way stop the gnawing unease that was eating away at her?

She felt a hand on her arm and looked up to see Pastor Easton bridging the space between them. "Piper," he said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze, "whatever it is, you can talk to me. And you can talk to God."

"I have a friend," Piper started, wincing inwardly at the clichéd use of _an anonymous friend_ to disguise her own involvement in this mess, "who thinks that she's… well, she thinks she needs to fight Lucifer. She thinks that he is coming for her."

Pastor Easton considered this for a moment, then let go of Piper's arm and leaned back in his seat. "Acknowledging that he is coming for her is the first step," he said gravely. "We cannot fight our inner demons if we don't acknowledge that they are there."

Piper smiled grimly. Maybe that was true for inner demons, but actual demons – the ones made of flesh and blood – had a tendency to wreak havoc regardless of whether or not anyone believed in them.

"So, what is step number two?" Piper asked.

"Praying to God for strength is usually a good idea," the pastor replied.

"My friend isn't sure whether or not she believes in God," Piper replied quietly. It was hard to believe in much of anything after losing Prue. What was the point of continually fighting a battle that took away everything she cared about and gave her nothing in return?

Pastor Easton looked surprised, then said, "But she believes in the devil?"

"Yes," Piper replied simply.

"Why? Why does she believe in the devil but not in God?"

"I… I'm not sure," Piper replied hesitantly. What was she supposed to say? That she believed in the devil because her ex-husband – who just so happened to be a guardian angel – had told her that the devil was real? Somehow, she doubted that Pastor Easton would accept such an explanation, and she really didn't want to answer any other questions about the subject.

Pastor Easton was quiet for a long moment, accepting this information. Then he asked, "Has your friend suffered any kind of loss?"

Piper blinked, surprised. "Yes, she has." She hesitated, then added with more than a little bitterness in her voice, "A lot of it, actually." Her mother, her sister, her husband… and quite possibly her son.

She knew it was wrong to think like that. She hadn't lost Wyatt yet, and she was determined to do everything she could to protect him. But what if it wasn't enough? What if _she_ wasn't enough?

Piper cleared her throat. "She… uh… she's lost a couple family members. They died young and… and violently."

The pastor gave a weary sigh. "I suspected as much," he said heavily. "People believe in the devil because they believe in evil. Because they've _seen_ evil. They see his work everywhere – in hatred and bigotry, in discrimination, in crime. Sometimes they become so consumed by this belief that it is hard to remember…" He placed his hand on Piper's arm again, "There might be evil in the world, Piper, but there is good, too. Remind your friend of that. The best way to fight the devil is to cling to the belief in good. To have faith that people are truly decent underneath all their mistakes."

* * *

><p>"This isn't enough, Lola. This isn't even close to enough. I need more," Chris snapped, pacing back and forth anxiously.<p>

The redheaded sorceress watched him silently.

Chris turned to face her, hands clenched into fists. He was dangerously close to losing it, and this was the last place that he wanted to let his emotions out from behind the tightly controlled mask. His impassive façade had been slipping more and more every day, and he had a feeling he wasn't pulling off nonchalance quite as well as he used to.

But, _God_, how did Piper not see what she was doing to him every time she spat harsh words and pent-up frustration at him?

He sat down on the sofa and stared blankly around the back room of P3. If he completely lost it and destroyed the room, Piper would undoubtedly have more than a few words to share with him.

"You seem rather tense, white-lighter," Lola commented after a moment more of silence. "Problems with the Charmed Ones?"

He glared at her. She was a demonic sorceress. She was evil. He really shouldn't have been surprised by how much glee she took in annoying him.

And she clearly did take pleasure in it. Every scrap of information she threw his way was accompanied by poisonous words that slid under his skin and past his defenses. He should never have allowed her to talk him into this bargain with Lucifer.

Of course, if there was any chance that it could save Wyatt…

He ran a hand through his hair. Now he had to worry about the Charmed Ones, too. They knew Lucifer was here and would undoubtedly start looking for him, start trying to figure out what he was up to. If they learned about the deal Chris had made, how would they react?

Chris wanted to believe that they would understand. If they knew the details of the deal, knew that he was sacrificing his soul for Wyatt, maybe they wouldn't judge his actions too harshly. Maybe they would even agree with what he was doing, maybe they would praise him for it.

Of course, that assumed that they would even listen to him long enough to hear all the details, to hear his reasoning and his justifications. Would they do so, or would they simply decide he was evil and try to vanquish him?

Or, even worse, would they somehow interfere with the deal?

It was possible that they could do something like that. Lucifer was cunning. If the Charmed Ones learned about the deal, if they tried to interfere, the devil would certainly find a way to claim that Chris did not uphold his end of the bargain, and he would then negate the deal. Then he could wipe clean Chris' memory of Gideon's involvement and no one would ever know who had turned Wyatt.

And if Lucifer could find a way to blame Chris for the Charmed Ones' involvement, for the deal falling through, he would still have a claim to Chris' soul. Once Chris had entered into the deal, the only way he could get his soul back was if Lucifer called it off. If anyone else was to blame…

Chris would lose his soul.

Wyatt would still be evil.

It would all be for nothing.

Just because Lucifer had to live by a set of laws didn't mean that he didn't know how to use them to his advantage.

No, it was far safer to keep the Charmed Ones out of this until he could figure out a way to get rid of Gideon. Of course, that meant he had to come up with a plan to kill an Elder – and likely without the Power of Three to help him – all the while blatantly lying to and misleading his mother and aunts.

And that was only if Gideon didn't have any help. If there were other Elders on his side…

Chris shuddered to think of it.

Lola sashayed over to him and pulled him from his thoughts. "Come now, white-lighter," she murmured, leaning in close and resting her hands on either side of him, "it can't be _that_ bad."

She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and something exotic.

"Tell Lola all about it," she continued in the same soft whisper, her voice beguilingly gentle. "Maybe she can make your troubles just disappear."

Her fingers were on his arm, running slowly upwards towards his shoulder.

He clenched his hands into fists again and tried to control his breathing. His heart was hammering in his chest, reminding himself how dangerous she was. But his body was betraying him, slowly relaxing as she pressed closer.

"Wouldn't it be nice to just rest for a while? Let somebody else worry about all these problems," Lola continued. "Why do you have to save the world? Why does it have to rest on your shoulders? You're young, white-lighter. And you're tired."

Her words were soothing. She was right, of course. It was too much for anyone to expect him to do this. He'd been fighting this battle for years and he'd paid the price for it. He'd paid it in blood, in his own blood and the blood of people he cared about, people he loved.

And now he was tired.

"Just let go," Lola continued whispering in his ear. "Just let go of all of it. Let someone else fight this battle. You've come this far and you've done this much. Isn't that enough? Does anyone really have the right to ask more from you?"

Her hair fell in his face and her words washed over him, relaxing him.

"There are others who can fight this battle for you."

He nodded slowly, agreeing with her. There were others who could fight this battle for him.

Except…

_Chris, you know you're the only one who can do this. You're the only one who can save us._

He closed his eyes and with a great Herculean effort, brought the image of Bianca's face to the forefront of his mind.

He stiffened, and shoved Lola away.

"Stop it," he hissed through clenched teeth and tried not to think about just how _much_ he had wanted to lose himself in her honey-coated words. Just how much he wanted to ignore the poison hidden underneath.

She stepped away from him, a pout on her red lips, and he rose to his feet. The terms of the deal with Lucifer were simple enough, but the devil had slipped in a little clause that Chris be the only one he had to deal with. Which meant that if Chris did give up, if he did pass along this burden to someone else, Lucifer would no longer be obligated to provide any information.

And they didn't have enough information now. Not knowing the details of Gideon's plan, not knowing if there were other Elders in on it… going up against Gideon without that information would be suicide, and might not actually save Wyatt.

Chris turned away from Lola and said quietly, but in a tone laced with venom, "I need more information. Tell Lucifer I _need_ more."

"And why should he give you more?" Lola asked sweetly.

Chris turned to face her. Lucifer had the upper hand, that much was true. But Chris hadn't spent years avoiding Wyatt's traps for nothing. The devil wasn't the only one who knew how to be cunning.

"Because I ask who turned Wyatt evil, and that _who_ includes everyone involved," Chris replied.

"You didn't stipulate that," Lola argued. "Gideon is the one who actually performs the action. He is the one who turns the Twice Blessed into the monster you know in the future. That was the information asked for, and that was the information Lucifer provided."

"If Gideon is the only one plotting this, then killing him should save Wyatt, correct?" Chris asked. "That is… if Gideon is the only answer to the _who_ question."

"I suppose," Lola agreed.

"Then I want Lucifer to _say_ that," Chris said firmly, a vindictive smirk twisting his lips. "Because if anyone else is involved, if killing Gideon _isn't_ enough to save Wyatt… well, then there would be more than one _who_ involved. Which means that Lucifer will have lied to me. And I'm fairly certain that _that_ is against the laws."

Lola frowned, clearly searching for a flaw in Chris' logic. When she found none, she sighed and said, "Fine. I'll pass along the message. Lucifer will be in touch." And she shimmered from the room.

Chris sank back onto the sofa and buried his head in his hands, trying to organize his complicated thoughts. He had managed to twist the deal enough to force Lucifer to tell him about every single person involved in this. But he still didn't know the _how_ or the _why_.

But did he need to know those? Or was it enough to figure out the _who_? Once he eliminated Gideon and whoever else was a threat, Wyatt would be safe and the other questions would be irrelevant.

So why did this feel too easy?

* * *

><p>"Chris? Chris, are you here?"<p>

There was no answer, and Phoebe shrugged carelessly and carried the large box she was carrying over to the bar. She still wasn't exactly sure why she had agreed to help Piper with inventory at P3, but she suspected it had something to do with the way her sister had been acting lately. Ever since the revelation of Lucifer's reappearance, Piper had been even more on edge than she usually was, and Phoebe was happy to do whatever she could to help.

They hadn't seen Chris since the conversation about the devil in the attic the previous day. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear for extended periods of time, so one day's absence wasn't a surprise. It still felt a little odd, though. With someone as big and bad as Lucifer around, Phoebe had half expected Chris to spend all his time hovering around them.

Was Piper right? Was he off following his own leads, to stubborn to listen to theirs?

She set the box down on the bar and opened it. It was full of straws, and she had two more boxes of napkins and toothpicks in the car. It was crazy, the amount of drink accessories they went through at P3 every night.

Phoebe glanced around for the ledger where Piper kept track of all of her purchases, but before she could find it, she noticed with some interest that the door to the backroom was partially open. Curiosity got the better of her, and she abandoned her search for the ledger and moved quickly towards the room.

The few times she had been in the backroom since Chris had moved in, there had been nothing much lying around. A few changes of clothing and a notepad with a list of demon names, some crossed off. There hadn't been anything personal, but Phoebe refused to believe that Chris would come all the way to the past with only an engagement ring as a reminder of his previous life.

She was sure there was more back there, somewhere. She just hadn't found it yet.

She pushed the door to the room open further and looked around. There was a pile of neatly folded clothing on the sofa and a notepad on the table. The notepad had a list of demons on it, and at the bottom of the list were two new additions.

Elders and Lucifer.

She flipped through the notepad, but there was nothing else written on any of the pages.

She didn't distrust Chris as much as Paige did and she didn't dislike Chris as much as Piper did. She also didn't trust Chris as much as Leo apparently did now that he had helped saved Wyatt from the Order. She was mostly ambivalent at the moment, wanting to wait until she knew more about Chris before passing judgment.

But she didn't like his secrets, and the more he continued to lie to them, to manipulate them, the more she found herself inclined to agree with Piper and Paige instead of Leo.

She sighed and put the notebook down, then walked over to the sofa. She reached down to touch one of Chris' shirts, and her fingers grazed the fabric of the sofa, throwing her into a premonition.

_The woman had perfect skin, fiery red hair, and stunning eyes. And there was something about her, something dangerous and deadly and intoxicating. But the beauty of her features was marred by the look of surprise that suddenly washed over them, a look that quickly morphed into fear._

_Then her entire body went up in flames._

Phoebe came out of the premonition with a gasp and stumbled slightly. A pair of arms caught her before she fell, and she turned and found herself staring at Chris.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I… yeah… what are you… what are you doing here?" Phoebe stammered, surprised both by Chris' sudden appearance and by the force of the unexpected premonition.

"I live here," Chris replied dryly, releasing her and stepped away. "I orbed in just as you got that premonition." He hesitated, then asked, "What did you see?"

"A demon, maybe. Or an evil witch. Definitely something evil. She was… she was being vanquished."

Chris raised his eyebrows. "Usually you don't get warnings when an evil being is in danger of being vanquished," he said with a slight frown. "What did she look like?"

"Uh… pretty. Tall. Red hair," Phoebe offered. A flicker of something passed through Chris' eyes so quickly that she wondered if perhaps she had imagined it, if her predisposition towards distrusting Chris was forcing her to see things that weren't really there. She chewed her lip for a moment, watching Chris intently, waiting to see if he would give anything away. When he said nothing, she pressed, "Does that mean anything to you?"

Chris shrugged. "It's kind of vague," he replied. "Maybe if you can find her in the Book, I can tell you if I know her."

"Right," Phoebe agreed. "So… have any red-haired demons attacked you recently?" She gestured around the room. "I mean, I saw her being vanquished in here. Maybe it had something to do with you."

"Or maybe she was waiting to attack Piper," Chris countered.

Phoebe hesitated, unable to shake the impression that he was lying to her, and yet unable to come up with any kind of proof.

"I can check around the Underworld," Chris added, "and see if there are any rumors about a red-haired demon going after the Charmed Ones. But it's not going to be easy without a more detailed description."

"I'll look in the Book and get back to you," Phoebe murmured.

"Okay, good," Chris said.

There was an awkward pause, then Phoebe cleared her throat. "Alright. I'll see you later," she said, and pushed past him. She paused in the doorway of the room and glanced back to find Chris staring down at the sofa with a contemplative expression in his eyes.

He definitely knew more than he was saying.


	4. Fires of Hell

Chapter Three: Fires of Hell

"_He doesn't go into the Underworld," Chris said. "He'll go there to vanquish his enemies or punish any followers he is displeased with, but he doesn't… he never goes for any other reason. He makes everyone come to him."_

_Bianca shrugged, and said in an unsurprised tone, "It's a classic power play, Chris. Make your subordinates come to you. There's nothing really remarkable about that."_

"_This is different," Chris answered. "He was like this growing up, too. The Underworld made him uneasy. He much preferred to summon demons to the Manor and then vanquish them there."_

_Bianca considered his statement, then said, "Well, I can't say I really like the Underworld, either. Demons have the home court advantage there. And the entire thing reminds me of… well, of what I would imagine hell to be like." Her lips quirked into a wry smile, and she added, "Given that I'm probably going to hell after I die anyway, I'd rather not spend too much of my life there."_

"_You're not going to hell," Chris protested._

_Bianca just shrugged, and didn't bother pointing out that a couple years on the side of Good didn't make up for two decades as an assassin witch._

_Neither said anything for a while, then the Phoenix asked, "You think it is something more, don't you? You think there is a reason why Wyatt doesn't like the Underworld."_

_Chris chewed his lip. "Maybe," he said with a frustrated sigh. "I wish I knew. I wish there was someone to ask. I've talked to the cousins about it, and none of them have any idea… my mother would have known… or my father… or Aunt Paige and Aunt Phoebe… but since they're not around for me to ask…" He trailed off and didn't finish the sentence._

_Again, there was a moment of silence. Then Bianca said, "He's your brother, Chris, so you know him best. If you think there is something more to his dislike of the Underworld, then there probably is."_

Chris awoke with a start, the dream clinging to the edges of his subconscious. He'd only sat down for a moment, but he'd been running himself ragged over the past few weeks, and the lack of sleep had clearly caught up with him.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. He'd only drifted off for about fifteen minutes, which at least meant that he hadn't wasted much time.

He stood up and stretched his aching muscles. Lucifer's answers, Phoebe's premonition, and Bianca's words from dream all lingered in his mind.

He needed to get back to work.

* * *

><p>"Did you come all the way here to warn me about the Charmed One's premonition, white-lighter?" Lola purred, sidling up to Chris with a smirk on her lips and trailing a finger over his chest. She tilted her chin upwards, meeting his gaze, and said, "Careful. I might think you actually care about me."<p>

Chris caught her wrist and pushed it away. "I don't," he said coolly. "But you are no good to me if you are dead." He stepped around her and glanced at the doorway. He was fairly certain they were alone, but he had spent far too long in the hellish future to relax just because there weren't demons attacking at the moment.

Lola followed his gaze. "Ah… still worried I will betray you, white-lighter?" she laughed. "Don't be a fool."

Chris raised one eyebrow. "Fool?" he repeated. "Am I really a fool for being on my guard?"

Lola stared down at her hand, contemplating her painted nails. They were bright red, matching her lips. "Lucifer doesn't want you dead… yet," she commented. "You are safe until he is done."

Chris faced her, wondering at her words. There was something there – a warning that Lucifer was still manipulating him, still playing with him – and Chris almost asked why she would tell him that. Was she betraying Lucifer by warning Chris…

Or did Lucifer want Chris to know that he wasn't done yet?

Instead of thinking about that any further, however, Chris said flatly, "Just stay away from Piper's club, Lola. I don't know when Phoebe's premonition is supposed to take place, but if you aren't there, then it can't come true."

Lola nodded, red hair tumbling into her eyes. She flicked the strands away and her expression grew serious, that perpetual smirk fading. "As you wish," she answered in a would-be casual voice. As though it didn't matter to her. As though she was frequently told that her death was going to happen in the very near future.

Chris started pacing. "When will Lucifer answer my question?" he demanded. "I won't wait forever."

Lola raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you will," she answered. "You will wait for as long as is necessary."

Chris whirled on her, anger coloring his tone as he snarled, "Is Lucifer going to make me wait?"

Lola rolled her eyes. "That wasn't a threat, white-lighter. I was merely stating a fact. We both know that, if necessary, you _will_ wait forever, because you have no intention of giving up on your mission, and you can't back out of the deal now. Not that you would, anyway. Lucifer is your best chance at saving the future." She folded her arms over her chest and gave him a smug look. "Don't make empty threats."

Chris bit back the urge to telekinetically throw her into the wall. He forced himself to take a few breaths, and then asked again, "When will Lucifer answer my question?"

"Be at the eldest Charmed One's club at midnight," Lola said. "He'll be here."

"Midnight?" Chris repeated, smirking. "Going for the cliché, are we?"

Lola inclined her head. "Indeed."

Chris gave her one last hard look, then orbed away.

* * *

><p>The summons wasn't entirely unexpected, given the turmoil of the past couple days, but Leo still felt a twinge of annoyance as the call came for him. He was watching Wyatt sleep, as he did quite often now, and it was something that he convinced himself was neither creepy nor paranoid.<p>

He hadn't reacted to Chris' revelations with quite the same intensity that Piper had, but nothing could stop the gnawing sensation in his stomach every time he looked at his son. The very idea that Wyatt could turn evil seemed preposterous, and yet…

Chris hadn't been lying, Leo was convinced of that. The raw anguish in the young white-lighter's voice when he explained what the future was really like was enough to tell Leo that this wasn't some convoluted plot to get close to the Charmed Ones or Wyatt.

The summons came again, and Leo sighed. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he grumbled under his breath as his body broke apart into blue and white orbs.

He wasn't a white-lighter anymore, he was an Elder. And he didn't like being treated like a white-lighter, didn't like being summoned this way, as though his obedience was expected. It wasn't pride or arrogance that made him wish the other Elders would remember that he was no longer at their beck and call. It was merely that he had given up everything that mattered to him – Piper and Wyatt – to be an Elder, and if he was going to be treated like a glorified white-lighter, he didn't understand why the sacrifice would be worth it.

But the summons had come from his old mentor, and that did make things slightly different.

He reappeared Up There and glanced around through the mist until he spotted the other Elder. "Gideon," he called out, and strode quickly towards his mentor.

"Ah, Leo," Gideon said in his slight British accent, his mouth curling into a welcoming smile that did nothing to hide the seriousness of his gaze. "I am sorry to pull you away from your son."

Leo frowned. "You were spying on me?"

"I was watching you,' Gideon corrected calmly, refusing to start any sort of argument. "Come, walk with me. We need to talk."

Leo nodded slowly, and followed Gideon as they began to walk through the clouds. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that the other Elders were keeping tabs on him – he was rather new to this – but it still felt like an invasion of privacy. On the other hand, this was Gideon, and Leo trusted him completely.

Gideon had been his mentor, helping him adjust to being a white-lighter. And he'd later taken Leo's side and argued for allowing him to marry Piper. It wasn't fair to start an argument with him over something as trivial as this.

Particularly not with Lucifer now walking the Earth again.

With that thought in mind, Leo asked, "Is this about Lucifer? Is there any news?"

"We believe he is working with a sorceress," Gideon said. "She's a… a broker, I suppose would be the best word. She's helping him contact potential clients. Or, rather, client. Singular."

Leo's brow furrowed in thought. "Client?" he asked. "Only one?"

Gideon nodded. "We don't know who it is yet, but we are fairly certain there is only one."

"But why would Lucifer only make one deal? Why would he show up after all this time and only gain one soul?" Leo demanded, bewildered. That made no sense at all.

And Gideon appeared to be equally baffled. "We are not sure," he admitted, his tone making it quite clear how much it frustrated him that he did not understand Lucifer's motives. "And Leo… he doesn't appear to be doing anything else."

"At all?" Leo questioned. "He's not starting a war? He's not turning family members against each other? He's not corrupting good people?"

Gideon shook his head, and the two Elders lapsed into silence.

While making deals was certainly what Lucifer was best known for – hence the multiple stories in classical literature about people making pacts with the devil and the widespread belief among the more mainstream culture that being a witch was a form of satanic worship in which women attempted to trade their souls for magical abilities – it wasn't his most potent gift. If he could start an entire war by whispering words into a listening ear, why wasn't he doing it?

Why would Lucifer go through all the trouble of rising for just one deal?

"Maybe the soul he wants is special," Leo suggested. Then he stopped, another thought occurring to him, and turned to face Gideon. "Has he already made the deal? Has he already contacted the client?"

"We think so," Gideon said.

Leo pressed his lips together and nodded slowly. "Then… the Charmed Ones weren't the target after all? Wyatt wasn't…"

"Not yet," Gideon said quickly. "Lucifer hasn't targeted them yet. It doesn't mean he won't. He's patient, Leo, and time is certainly on his side. Perhaps he has decided to do things one at a time." His expression grew grim as he finished, "We cannot assume that the Charmed Ones or your son are safe."

Leo let out a shaky breath. "The sorceress that Lucifer is working with… do you know her name?"

"Yes. Her name is Lola," Gideon replied.

They spoke for a few more minutes, but neither had anything substantive to add. It was clear to Leo that Gideon had reached the end of the extent of his knowledge on the subject, and Leo himself didn't know what to make of what he had learned.

He knew Gideon wanted him to send the Charmed Ones after Lola. The Elder didn't need to say it aloud for Leo to understand that. And it was the right thing to do…

Except that if Lucifer hadn't gone after the Charmed Ones yet, if his plan was never to go after the Halliwell family, then sending the three sisters to vanquish his broker would only serve to make them his enemy. The sisters had never backed down from a fight before, but Lucifer was different from the other evils they had fought.

Lucifer couldn't be beaten.

Still, Piper wouldn't hesitate to blow up Leo if she found out that he was concealing information from her, and she would find out.

So he took a breath, steeled himself for the argument that would undoubtedly follow this revelation, and orbed back to the Manor's attic.

What he had not expected was to find the three sisters standing around the Book, already looking at an entry on the sorceress Lola.

"Oh, Leo," Piper said in faint surprise as he appeared. She regained her composure a moment later and asked with a brief gesture towards the Book, "What do you know about a sorceress named Lola?"

"She's working with Lucifer," Leo answered automatically. "What do _you_ know about her?" Was it possible that the Elders had already passed along this information? But no, that didn't make any sense…

"Phoebe had a premonition of her being vanquished," Paige said, giving Leo a puzzled look. "If you knew she was working with Lucifer, why didn't you mention it when you were telling us about him?"

"I didn't know," Leo said, crossing to the Book and reading the brief entry quickly. "The Elders – Gideon, my old mentor – just told me now. That's why I came here."

The Book didn't say much. Lola appeared to be a fairly typical sorceress, and the usual warnings applied; sorceresses lie and manipulate to trap their victims, do not trust a word she says. The only bit of interesting information it did note was that she had survived even after refusing to give her loyalty to the previous Source. While that certainly wasn't unheard of, it did mean that she was cunning enough to avoid death.

He glanced over at Phoebe. "Where did your premonition take place?"

"Backroom of P3," Phoebe said. "Definitely at night, but I'm not sure when. I'm a little hazy on the details."

Piper and Phoebe exchanged a brief look, and Leo didn't need to hear Piper's thoughts to know exactly what she was thinking. Her face twisted into a scowl, and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

It was Paige who spoke, tentatively asking the question as she looked between her sisters and Leo, "You don't think… Chris…?"

Leo didn't want to believe it. He had been so sure of Chris' motives, so convinced that – despite Chris' previous untrustworthy actions – the white-lighter's intentions were good. But Gideon had said that the deal had already been made, Gideon had said that Lola had been in charge of contacting the client for Lucifer…

And it seemed now that Lola knew Chris.

"He was there when I got the premonition," Phoebe said quietly. "I described this sorceress to him, but he said he didn't know her." She paused, then added, "I did get the feeling that he wasn't being entirely honest…"

"When is he _ever_ entirely honest?" Paige interrupted pointedly.

"But why would Chris be working with Lucifer?" Phoebe asked. "I mean… do we really think he is _that_ evil?" She hesitated, then cleared her throat and added, "He did save Wyatt from the Order."

"How do we know that wasn't some plan to get close to us? To get us to trust him so that he could get closer to Wyatt?" Paige argued.

Piper nodded in agreement, and though Phoebe didn't look entirely convinced, she didn't argue the point. Leo frowned, torn. The initial mistrust of Chris that had plagued him for the first few months after his return from Valhalla was still there, even though he did his best to ignore it. And it was screaming at him now, telling him that Chris had never deserved a second chance, and he'd be a fool to trust the man from the future. But the more logical part of him was pointing out that this didn't make any sense, because why would Lucifer have even needed Chris' help in the first place? Lucifer could have gotten close to the sisters, and to Wyatt, on his own.

He said nothing.

Piper pursed her lips. "There's a vanquishing potion," she stated flatly, nodding to the Book. "So let's vanquish this sorceress. Then we can deal with Chris."

* * *

><p><em>The child was terrified.<em>

_He had no idea where he was. The Man – the one Daddy had said was a friend, was someone they could trust – had brought him to this place of cold and dark. And the cold wasn't just cold, not just the chilliness of a winter evening when Mama would wrap a coat around him. It was a different cold._

_An evil cold._

_The Man had looked at him, and the friendliness had been gone from his gaze. The Man's eyes were cold, too._

_He'd barely managed to get away. But he wasn't strong enough yet to orb all the way back to his parents, and he found himself in another dank cave not unlike the one he had just left._

_He was in the Underworld. He didn't know much about the Underworld, just knew that Bad Things came from there._

_He wanted to go home._

"_Well, well, well… what have we here?"_

_He turned, eyes widening in fear and horror. The… thing… was tall, with nails that curled into claws at the end of each finger, and dark hair complemented by dark eyes that glittered with malice. He was advancing on the child slowly, lips curling into a triumphant smirk._

_He clearly thought the boy was easy prey._

_The boy began to tremble, fear seizing the muscles in his small body. He backed away on unsteady feet, nearly stumbling on the uneven ground. The cave floor was slick beneath his feet with something that was dark and red and he didn't want to think about what it was._

_He just wanted to go home._

_Terror made him act. He didn't think, not really. He just knew that he was cold, that this thing advancing on him was cold, that the cold was everywhere and he was afraid._

_He wanted to be warm again._

_He blinked his eyes, lids closing briefly, powering forming in his chest and bubbling under his skin._

_The thing erupted into flames._

_It shrieked as it did so, and the boy backed away even further. He fell, hitting the ground. There was something red and sticky on his hands and he didn't understand any of this._

_The thing kept shrieking as the flames consumed it. It flailed about, arms flung wide. It's cries of pain and fear filled the air, bouncing off the wall and echoing through the cave. It's voice rose several octaves as it gave a few last, final screams. Then the screams died into nothing and the entire thing disappeared, replaced by a pile of ash on the floor of the cave._

_The child stared at it. _

_Why would the Man try to hurt him? Daddy had said he was a friend._

_Had Daddy been wrong?_

_He just wanted to go home._

_He heard footsteps and felt an unwelcome presence. It was the Man again, he could sense that. The Man was looking for him, following him through the unending maze of caves and passageways._

_Why was this happening to him?_

Chris felt as though his stomach was trying to rebel against the rest of his body. It heaved and turned over, and he stumbled away from Lucifer, breaking contact and disrupting the vision. When the Devil had informed him that he could show him the truth, could make him understand _how_ Wyatt had been turned, he hadn't really expected to relive it.

His brother's fear had been his own. He'd felt like a child – two years old and terrified – trapped in the Underworld. And he finally understood why Wyatt said that Good and Evil meant nothing to him. How could he place any faith in those concepts when someone in the side of Good had tried to kill him?

Chris inhaled sharply, trying to get fresh air into his lungs. He felt sick.

"How long?" he asked finally, looking over at Lucifer. "How long does that go on?"

"A few months," Lucifer said casually.

"Months?" Chris echoed, horrified. "_Months_?"

"Well, you didn't really think it was going to be easy to turn the Twice Blessed evil, did you?" Lucifer said with a nonchalant shrug. "He's born of a Halliwell and a white-lighter. It doesn't get much better than that."

"And this is… this is how Gideon turns him…" Chris breathed, not quite able to believe what he had seen. But Lucifer didn't lie, he knew that. The vision had been real.

Wyatt's fear had been real.

Chris reached out and steadied himself against the sofa. He realized with a start that his entire body was shaking. He clenched the sofa cushion, his knuckles turning white from the effort. His stomach heaved again, but he forced the nausea down.

Lucifer studied Chris for a moment, then said, "The boy is two when this happens. A few months of orbing around a demon-infested Underworld on the run from a supposed Source of Good? That would turn anyone." His lips curled into a smirk as he added, "Trust me, I _know_."

Chris glanced sharply at Lucifer, but refrained from asking the obvious question. He didn't really want to know just how many children the devil had corrupted through methods similar to Gideon's.

He closed his eyes and fought to regain control of his rational mind. It took a moment, but he was able to finally push away the horror and disgust at what he had seen and focus instead on the details. Lucifer's vision had finally provided answers to some of the more confusing questions.

Such as why _Gideon_ of all people would turn someone evil.

"Sanctimonious bastard," he muttered under his breath.

"That title could easily be applied to all Elders," Lucifer interjected.

Chris shrugged. He had never been a big fan of theirs. Once it had become clear that Wyatt was beyond their control, they had sealed themselves off from the world to prevent an attack on the Heavens. They had, in effect, abandoned their charges and all the innocents they claimed to care about in order to save themselves. Only a few had remained on Earth and joined the Resistance, determined to fight for Good. The others had simply stood there and watched the world burn.

In their defense, Wyatt _would_ have annihilated them all in a heartbeat if he'd been able to, and they would not have been able to help anyone then. But for Chris – and, really, for anyone in the Resistance, any of the people who had spent years risking their own lives to protect the world against Wyatt's steadily increasing power – running and hiding was just cowardly.

But whatever disdain he felt for the Elders in general was _nothing_ compared to the utter hatred he felt for Gideon specifically.

"He was so damn convinced that Wyatt had too much power that he actually tried to kill a child," Chris muttered, shaking his head. "He didn't even give Wyatt a chance to prove that he wasn't evil. He just… How could he be so self-righteous, so arrogant, so _uncaring_…? He _destroyed_ my family. My mother and aunts gave _everything_ to his cause, my father sacrificed his own _happiness_ to be an Elder, and _this_ is how Gideon repays them?"

The nausea that had lingered after the vision was completely gone now, replaced by a different feeling altogether. Fury – icy cold and incredibly dangerous – coalesced into a hard ball in Chris' stomach.

He was going to make Gideon pay.

"Well, I don't think you helped matters any," Lucifer commented dryly.

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Lucifer said quickly, "Gideon was going to go after the Twice Blessed no matter what. From the moment the child was born and the extent of his power was realized, the seeds of this plot were planted in Gideon's mind. It was always going to end up like this." He titled his head to the side and stared at Chris thoughtfully for a moment before adding, "But, of course, your little revelation that Wyatt was evil in the future… let's just say any doubts Gideon might have been entertaining were gone the moment he heard that."

Chris stared blankly, then his jaw dropped as the realization set in. Lucifer was right. If he hadn't told the sisters that Wyatt was evil in the future, if he hadn't told Leo, if Gideon had never learned any of that…

But Gideon had learned it. Because of Chris.

Oh, _God_.

"Damn it!" he swore.

"Like I said," Lucifer murmured sympathetically, "Gideon would have gone after Wyatt no matter what. So you really can't blame yourself for it. All you did was strengthen his resolve and possibly cause him to move up his timetable."

Chris clenched his hands into fists.

Gideon's actions had created the very monster he had been so determined to destroy. And Chris coming back to the past had only made Gideon that much more convinced he was doing the right thing.

Wasn't that just fucking ironic?

Lucifer was getting to him. His voice, soft and gentle and so caring, was slipping past Chris' defenses and the white-lighter _knew_ it was dangerous. He knew Lucifer was only trying to hurt him, to point out how much his actions had screwed up everything while still disguising his words as sympathy. The devil was stabbing a metaphorical knife into his heart and twisting the blade, and Chris knew he had to ignore it.

But he couldn't.

Because Lucifer was _right_.

"We could be running out of time," Chris said flatly, almost numbly. "This happened when Wyatt was two, so we still have almost another year… unless Gideon isn't going to wait as long this time. Who knows what I've changed by being in the past? This could be one of those things… Gideon could be coming for Wyatt soon."

"It's possible," Lucifer agreed quietly. "But that isn't your fault. You can't blame yourself for Gideon's actions."

A small voice in Chris' mind was yelling at him not to listen to Lucifer. The devil's honey-coated words were poisonous. Chris could defend himself against accusations, against hatred and distrust, against anger. But this… this quiet reassurance that it wasn't his fault, that he couldn't be held responsible for Gideon's actions…

Chris' exhausted psyche had no good defenses against words that were comforting and compassionate.

The little voice was yelling at him that Lucifer was only saying all of this because he knew it was the perfect way to make Chris feel guilty. It was the perfect way to hurt him.

But that little voice was already drowned out by the incredible amount of guilt that slammed into him the moment he let Lucifer's words get under his skin.

He rubbed at his eyes and turned away. The guilt weighed heavily against his chest and he struggled to draw a single breath. He rubbed at his chest and forced his weary mind to focus on something else. Anything else.

Anything was better than thinking about this.

"Why did you show me that glimpse?" Chris asked finally, meeting Lucifer's gaze for a moment.

Lucifer furrowed his brow. "You kept pestering me to answer the why and the how question, white-lighter. So I did. I thought you would be happy."

Chris gave a dark chuckle that abruptly cut off in his throat. Happy wasn't exactly the word he would use to describe the emotions he felt at watching his terrified toddler brother fight for his life.

"You kept refusing to answer those questions," Chris said. "It wasn't part of the contract." He paused, then added, "Besides, what I really wanted to know was whether or not Gideon was working alone, and you still haven't answered that. I need to know if I have to worry about the other Elders."

"Patience really isn't one of your strong points, is it?" Lucifer retorted.

Chris glared at him. It felt good to be concentrating on this. It kept his mind off the guilt, kept him from letting Lucifer's manipulations cause him any more grief. It kept him focused on what mattered.

Saving Wyatt.

"I'll get to the details about Gideon's followers in a minute," Lucifer said, waiving one hand dismissively. "Calm down, white-lighter. I have no intention of breaking the contract."

"Still doesn't explain why you gave me all this other information," Chris said firmly.

"I thought I'd be nice and give you some other answers as well. You can never have too much information, not if you plan on battling an Elder."

"You thought you'd be _nice_?" Chris repeated mockingly. "Gee, why don't I believe that?"

"I don't know," Lucifer answered mildly. "Why don't you believe it?"

"Because you would never do anything just to be nice," Chris snapped. "Tell me the truth!"

"Come now, white-lighter," Lucifer said cajolingly, "you know that the only thing I ever tell anyone _is_ the truth. I don't lie, remember?"

"Just because you don't lie doesn't mean that you always tell the _full_ truth," Chris countered. "Maybe you decided you would be nice to me, but that isn't the only reason you told me all of this. You have ulterior motives."

Lucifer lifted his chin. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Don't you trust me?"

Chris narrowed his eyes. "No, I don't."

Lucifer's lips split into a wide smile, and he said, "That is _incredibly_ wise."

Before Chris had a chance to say anything else, the room was illuminated in white and blue light, and the Charmed Ones appeared.


	5. Descent Into Perdition

Chapter Four: Descent into Perdition

Phoebe had been strangely wary about the entire plan for reasons that she didn't seem to want to share with anyone, and Piper had been absolutely furious at Chris' supposed dealings with Lucifer, leaving Paige as the only sister thinking clearly enough to quickly assess the situation. Orbing into the backroom of P3 hadn't been the wisest decision – in retrospect, they should have orbed into the main room of the club and then proceeded from there – but it was too late to undo anything.

And now they were here.

With Chris.

And Lucifer.

At least, she presumed it was Lucifer. He didn't look anything like she had expected. His suit was charcoal gray and immaculately pressed, and he wore a light blue tie that matched the blue of his eyes. He had a pair of sunglasses in one hand and an expression of mild amusement on his features.

And the raw power that hovered around him was indescribable.

He didn't look troubled by their appearance, and he seemed content to ignore the potion bottles in their hands and the way Piper's eyes narrowed at him with deliberate warning.

Chris, on the other hand, looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. But there was something else in his eyes. Desperation, perhaps? It sent a shiver down Paige's spine and she had the sudden suspicion that they had underestimated just how far Chris would go and how much he would risk to complete his mission.

Of course, she still had no idea what his mission was.

Why would he be working with Lucifer? Was he after Wyatt? Had it all been a lie?

"The sorceress isn't here," Phoebe said, speaking in a low tone. Her words were the first to break the stunned silence that had fallen over the three sisters. She sounded troubled.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and asked laconically, "Were you expecting her?"

Chris shot a look between Lucifer and Phoebe. The surprise had slipped from his features and been replaced by calculation. It took her a moment to figure out why that expression looked so familiar to her, and then she realized it was the same expression Chris wore every time he was trying to figure out how to get himself out of an uncomfortable position without revealing any information.

He was preparing to lie to them.

Piper must have seen it too, because she turned to him, hands raised, and said sharply and with a hint of deadly venom in her voice, "Don't even think of orbing away."

Hurt flickered through Chris' eyes, but he gazed at her hands and gave a wary nod. "Let's just talk about this rationally, okay?" he said slowly.

"Rationally? _Rationally_?" Piper echoed, nearly choking on almost hysterical laughter. "You're working with the _devil_, Chris."

"It's not what you think," Chris started defensively, but Piper cut him off.

"Of course it is what I think," she snarled. "It's _exactly_ what I think. You've been lying to us all along, and this is just one more lie, one more reason not to trust you. One more bit of proof that you're the one who is evil."

"Oh, this _is_ interesting," Lucifer murmured, smiling slightly as he watched the young white-lighter and the eldest Charmed One face each other.

Paige felt uneasy. There was something _wrong_ about the situation. The pieces weren't fitting together properly, and she couldn't figure out what was missing, but her instincts were screaming at her not to let the situation spiral out of control until they had all of the facts.

"Piper," she said softly, glancing at her oldest sister, "let's calm down a moment and talk."

Piper glared at her. "Talk?" she hissed. "You want to _talk_?"

They weren't prepared to deal with Lucifer. They had been expecting Lola, and nothing in Phoebe's premonition had given them any reason to believe that Lucifer would be here as well. Paige didn't want to get in over her head until she knew more.

"In her defense," Lucifer said suddenly, glancing at Paige while nodding his head towards Piper "she is under the misconception that I am here to turn her son evil. She does have every right to be angry about that… though, of course, it's not like she can actually harm me so, really, her threats are nothing more than a waste of time."

"You're lying," Piper accused.

Lucifer gave a long-suffering sigh and asked almost mournfully, "_Why_ do people keep accusing me of that? Don't you know by now that I _don't_ lie?"

Paige didn't want to believe it, but Lucifer wasn't the only one who had made that claim. Leo had also told them that the devil never lied, and maybe they couldn't believe a word Lucifer said, but they could trust Leo.

"This is ridiculous," Piper said. "Why should I believe you?"

"Leo said…" Paige started, but Piper shook her head and interrupted angrily.

"Leo's _wrong_."

Chris was staring at Piper, and her words caused a brief look of annoyance to pass over his face, but it was gone so quickly Paige wondered for a moment if she had imagined it. She could glean nothing else from his face; his expression became inscrutable once more.

Paige glanced at Phoebe. The empath was studying Lucifer and didn't meet Paige's eyes.

"Well," Lucifer said idly, "as fascinating as this little family spat is, I have other things to do." He nodded his head towards Chris. "I'll be in touch."

"But you still haven't told me…" Chris started, and then stopped, because it was too late. Lucifer was already gone.

There was a moment of stunned silence at the sudden departure, and then Piper took a threatening step towards Chris, her expression cold and uncompromising. With her arms extended in front of her and her fingers twitching as though she was just waiting for an excuse to blow up the white-lighter, she said, "Start talking, Chris. And you'd better hope that we like what you have to say."

"Look, whatever Leo told you about Lucifer was true - the devil _doesn't_ lie," Chris said. "And he wasn't lying right then when he said he isn't after Wyatt. He's not the one who turns Wyatt evil."

"So we should trust him?" Phoebe asked skeptically.

Chris shook his head quickly, emphatically. "No. _Never_. Just because he doesn't lie doesn't mean he's trustworthy." He paused, looking at Phoebe intently, and then said, "Surely Leo told you that?"

"He's the devil, Chris, and you're working with him," Piper said sharply, cutting in before Phoebe could respond. "You're _working_ with him. Why should we trust _you_?"

Chris flinched, and then said, "It's not what it looked like. I'm not…" He trailed off, sounding unsure.

Paige would be the first to admit that she didn't trust Chris. She had in the beginning – but they all had, except for Leo – and when his actions could no longer be ignored or excused, she'd been left with the bitter feeling of regret and disgust. How could she have been blind to the fact that underneath his earnest assertions that he was here to save Wyatt, save the future, all he was really doing was manipulating them?

She'd made the mistake once, and she wasn't willing to make it again.

And yet, at the same time, Lucifer's sudden departure had seemed to drain some of the tension from the room. Piper was still glaring at Chris and it was clear that she might resort to violence at any moment, but without Lucifer's powerful aura filling the air, everything just seemed calmer.

Calm enough for Paige to think clearly, and to ask firmly and with a look that told Chris she expected a full answer and not whatever half-truth he believed was sufficient, "What _were_ you doing with Lucifer, Chris?"

"I can't… I can't tell you…" Chris said quietly.

"Wrong answer," Piper snarled, and started to flick her wrists at him.

"Wait! _Wait_!" Chris cried instantly, holding one hand out in a defensive gesture. There was desperation in his voice, and Paige remember with a start that, as a half-witch, it was possible that Chris _wouldn't_ have the ability to reform as easily as Leo did.

On the other hand, if he was evil, she wasn't going to spend a lot of time feeling sorry for whatever pain Piper caused him.

"I can't tell you because I made a deal with Lucifer and I can't risk him finding a way to take my soul and not give me what I need in return," Chris said quickly, his eyes fixed on Piper. "But I did this for Wyatt. I'm trying to help him, to save him. That's all, Piper. I _swear_."

"Your word means very little to me," Piper answered flatly.

"Why would you make a deal with Lucifer?" Phoebe asked in a far more gentle tone.

Chris looked at her. "I can't…"

"Wrong answer!" Piper snapped again.

"Did you tell Lucifer that you wouldn't tell anyone about the deal?" Paige asked. "Was that in the contract?" Having had some experience with Faustian deals herself, Paige knew more than either of her sisters. Even though the demon Zahn wasn't in Lucifer's league, even though the devil was a far more difficult enemy, some things would be similar.

Such as the contract.

"No," Chris said.

"Then you can tell us," Paige said.

"Can you promise me that you won't try to interfere?" Chris asked with a hint of derision in his tone. He knew them too well.

"Why would we promise that when we don't even know what deal you made?" Piper questioned suspiciously.

"If you interfere, Lucifer will find a way to manipulate the situation," Chris explained softly and with a pleading look in his eyes. "He'll either use it to get to the three of you, or he'll do something to make me violate the contract and lose the information I've acquired. I can't risk that. I _won't_."

"Information?" Phoebe asked. "Is that all you are after? But couldn't you get that from anyone?"

"Obviously not," Chris snapped irritably, "or I wouldn't have gone to the _devil_!"

"If Lucifer has already given you information, why do you care if you violate the contract? What is he going to do? He's already got your soul," Piper pointed out unfeelingly.

"If I violate the contract, he can wipe my memory and the memory of anyone I've told, _and_ he still gets to keep my soul. And if you do something to interfere, he might find a way to get to you, too," Chris replied with a heavy sigh. "Piper, he's been doing this for a few _millennia_. Don't you think he knows how to play the game by now?"

"We can figure out a way to…"

"You can't win against Lucifer," Chris said, shaking his head at Piper's stubborn denial. "You _can't_ beat him. The best you can do is figure out exactly what you're willing to sacrifice and make sure he doesn't take anything else. I've already given up my soul, but at least we can keep him from taking anything else."

"Maybe," Paige said coolly and with a hint of challenge in her voice, "but if you don't tell us, Piper will blow you up, and I've got a suspicion that you don't reform all that well."

Chris blanched and looked away. "Please…" he said in a choked voice, "don't do this. I need you to trust me."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you manipulated us into wanting to bind Wyatt's powers and then went on to make a deal with the devil," Piper spat.

"I didn't have a _choice_!" Chris cried in desperation. "I was wrong in trying to get you to bind Wyatt's powers, I know that. And I'm _sorry_. But this thing with Lucifer… I had to do it. I _had_ to."

"Why?"

"Because he can tell me who turns Wyatt evil!"

There was an absolute stunned silence in the room and Paige saw her own surprise mirrored in the expression of her two sisters. Piper had dropped her arms to her side and was looking at Chris intently, and Phoebe was shaking her head slowly, her mouth wide open.

"Wh-what?" Piper stammered.

"Lucifer _knows_ things," Chris said, his voice colored with frustration and bitter resignation. He clearly didn't want to be telling them any of this, but he was backed into a corner and he knew it. "I don't know how he knows them but he does. He can show me things, tell me what's happening and even why…" He ran a hand through his hair and said in a tone filled with raw helplessness and despair, "And I wasn't getting any closer to saving Wyatt. I couldn't even… Piper, I _knew_ that the Order was going after Wyatt and I _still_ couldn't stop them. I needed help and he… he could help me."

"Did he tell you who turns Wyatt?" Piper asked in a hushed whisper.

Chris met her gaze and answered with a miserable nod. "Yeah, he did."

"And?" Piper prompted.

"He didn't tell me if this… being… is working alone or with others of his… kind," Chris said. "I need to… I need to find that out before I even _think_ of telling you anything."

There was something he wasn't saying. Paige didn't know what it was, but the fact that he was skirting the issue made her far more uneasy than anything else had. Whatever it was he had discovered, he didn't like it.

And he didn't think they would like it, either.

"Wyatt is my _son_. You have no right to keep this from me!" Piper said, marching forward until she stood directly in front of Chris. She was significantly shorter than him, but with her hands on her hips and her eyes blazing, she seemed to get taller.

Chris practically cowed underneath her glare.

"Piper, wait," Phoebe said. Piper turned towards the empath with a look of incredulity in her gaze, and Phoebe held up her hands in a defensive manner and said, "If Chris is right…"

"Wyatt is my _son_!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Paige saw Chris move. She opened her mouth to call out a warning, but it was too late. With Piper's attention momentarily focused on Phoebe, Chris reached out and shoved the eldest Charmed One away from him. It was a light push, and did nothing more than knock Piper off balance, but it was enough to prevent her from being able to blow him up as he quickly dissolved into blue and white lights.

The orbs disappeared, and Chris was gone, but Paige was sure she'd gotten a glimpse of his expression right before he'd orbed away.

It had been an expression of remorse.

* * *

><p>"Family is such a wonderful thing, isn't it?"<p>

Chris started from his thoughts and spun around at the sound of Lucifer's voice. He watched in silence as the devil appeared next to him on the tower of the Golden Gate Bridge, then narrowed green eyes at Lucifer.

"I don't think there is anything in the world I love quite as much as family," Lucifer continued, taking a seat next to Chris and gazing out at the city sprawled beneath them. "All those emotions. When family is involved, people feel things _so_ strongly. It makes my job more… fun."

"You leaving me alone with them," Chris said bitterly, "did you actually have other things to do or was that merely for your own amusement?"

"You could have orbed away at any time," Lucifer said.

Chris shook his head. "Piper was focused on me the whole time, and she was ready to attack. I wouldn't have been able to orb away before she got me, and I don't reform all that well." He'd been blown up once before, in the future, and it hadn't been a particularly fun experience. He didn't really want to repeat it.

On the other hand, he'd physically attacked his mother in order to get away. And he knew – logically and rationally – that he'd shoved her very lightly and that it wouldn't have hurt her at all and that it couldn't even really be considered an attack. And he knew that he'd caused her worse pain on a mental and emotional scale every time he'd manipulated her and lied to her. And he knew he'd even put her in actual danger when he allowed Gith to trap her in his alternate reality.

But this was different. He'd never physically attacked his mother before.

Lucifer seemed to sense his thoughts, because he rolled his eyes and said, "That was hardly an attack, white-lighter. And she was threatening to blow you up, which seems to me to be a bit worse. Of course, I suppose my ideas on morality might not exactly match yours."

"You were watching?" Chris asked.

Lucifer gave him an entirely unwholesome smile and replied, "Of course. Did you really think I would miss that?"

Chris looked up at the night sky. There were very few clouds, despite the fact that it was the middle of winter, and he could see the stars.

There were always clouds in the future. The sky over San Francisco was a perpetual gray, although some of that was due to the smoke that spiraled upwards from the frequent fires around the city. Wyatt often let his demons do as they pleased, and they had a penchant for destruction.

The fact that Lucifer had been watching the conversation wasn't a surprise, but it did bother Chris. It meant that he knew that Chris had told the Charmed Ones about the deal, and it wouldn't take much for Lucifer to manipulate them into doing something stupid.

Chris had no intention of letting his family lose all of their souls as well, but he had no idea how he could stop Lucifer from taking them should the devil decide that was what he wanted to do.

And Chris still didn't trust that Lucifer wasn't after something else besides Chris' soul. The devil had other plans, Chris was sure of it. But he had no idea what those plans were, and that scared Chris far more than he wanted to admit.

He rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He just wanted this all to be over.

"Is Gideon working alone?" he asked.

"No," Lucifer replied. "There is another Elder helping him. Sigmund."

Chris blinked, then nodded. He didn't know Sigmund. They'd never met in the future – Sigmund had been vanquished before Chris was born – but Chris was fairly certain that Leo had mentioned the other Elder once or twice while he was growing up.

No one ever did find out exactly how Sigmund had died.

"He's not a threat, though," Lucifer said, looking up at the night sky as well. "He's having second thoughts about this. He doesn't like the idea of killing a child."

"Good," Chris muttered.

"The other Elders do not know of Gideon's plan, nor would they support him if they knew. Despite their rather arrogant disregard and disinterest towards the Charmed Ones' wishes for a normal life, they do not want anything bad to happen to the Halliwell family. And they would hardly condone killing a toddler."

Chris licked his lips. That was somewhat of a relief. He really doubted they would be able to fight _all_ the Elders.

"And Sigmund?" he pressed, wanting confirmation that this particular Elder truly was not a threat.

"If you stop Gideon, Sigmund won't go after Wyatt on his own," Lucifer added.

Chris glanced over at Lucifer. "Will he go after anyone else?" he asked shrewdly.

Lucifer smiled again, and the expression sent shivers down Chris' spine. "Our deal only involved me telling you about threats against the Twice Blessed," he replied.

Chris tensed. He wouldn't get an actual answer from Lucifer, of course, because the devil would not volunteer information for free. But Lucifer also wouldn't lie, which meant that his non-answer could merely be a way for him to avoid admitting that Sigmund would go after the rest of the Halliwell family.

Chris stared at Lucifer for a moment more, and then felt his heart plummet into his stomach as a horrible thought occurred to him.

He might not be able to kill Gideon on his own. He probably didn't have enough power to do it, and if he couldn't come up with another plan that involved the element of surprise or some sort of trickery, he would be forced to go to the Charmed Ones and Leo for help. He might have to involve them in his plans anyway, given that they already knew so much about what he had been doing.

He sincerely doubted Piper would be willing to sit this one out.

Which meant that they would have to help him kill an Elder. And the Elders might not be on Gideon's side now, but if the Charmed Ones _murdered_ one of them, the other Elders might very well turn against the family.

Why did this keep getting more complicated?

He had wanted to keep his family out of this in order to protect them, but somehow he had ended up involving them to the point that they could end up making enemies of some of the most powerful beings in the world.

The road to hell was paved with good intentions.

Chris gave a sudden, strangled laugh at that thought. After all, he'd sold his soul to the devil. For all his good intentions, he was, quite literally, going to hell.

* * *

><p>Leo stared blankly at Piper, not quite able to comprehend what she had said. "Chris sold his soul to the devil to get information on who turns Wyatt?" he asked slowly. It was the third time he had asked the question, and Piper, instead of rolling her eyes or snapping at him like she would have done in any normal situation, just nodded slowly.<p>

He looked from Piper to Phoebe and Paige, and they both gave him identical nods.

He closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

He hadn't been lying that night on top of the Golden Gate Bridge when he had told Chris that the white-lighter hadn't completely lost his trust. The Order had turned Wyatt evil, and even if Chris had lied to them and manipulated them, he had still saved Wyatt in the end.

He trusted Chris' intentions, if not his judgment, and this particular stunt only proved that he was right. Chris was on their side. Chris was clearly desperate to save Wyatt.

No matter the cost.

He had no idea what happened to the souls that Lucifer collected. There were rumors that they came back as demons and other embodiments of evil a few hundred years down the line. There were rumors that they became vengeful ghosts who worked as Lucifer's minions, spreading discord and strife. There were rumors that they burned in hell until they were driven mad by pain and despair, and then Lucifer would let them go and watch them wreak havoc on anything that crossed their paths.

There were a lot of rumors, but the Elders had never been able to confirm any of it.

What would happen to Chris?

Leo opened his eyes and looked over at the playpen that currently stood in the middle of the attic, holding Wyatt in it. The toddler blinked once, blue eyes focusing on his father. He clearly had no idea what was going on, and that was really for the best.

Leo didn't want Wyatt to know. He never wanted Wyatt to know what he had presumably become in Chris' future and just how far others were willing to go to prevent it. He didn't want Wyatt to be burdened with the knowledge that someone else had given up _everything_ to keep him safe.

He didn't want Wyatt to feel the inevitable regret that accompanied that knowledge, nor the hopeless desire that he could have somehow prevented it.

Leo's stomach flipped over once and he felt the tiniest bit of shame curl around his heart. Because he _didn't_ regret this, he didn't regret what Chris had done. How could he? Wyatt was his son, and if Chris was willing to go this far to keep Wyatt safe…

Some part of Leo was glad. He would do anything for his son… including sacrificing someone else.

He glanced towards the window. The sun was rising steadily over the horizon. It had been several hours since Piper's confrontation with Chris at P3, and Leo was a little annoyed that he was only hearing about it now. But apparently Piper had tried to scry for Chris, tried to summon him with a few different spells, and even tried a spell to send herself to him, all without any luck.

Leo could have told her that if Chris was with Lucifer, there was no way she was going to find him. Lucifer could block almost anything.

But she hadn't called him until only ten or fifteen minutes ago, and he hadn't been able to sense Chris either.

It was now morning, and all three sisters and Leo were tired, annoyed, and desperate for information.

As if on cue, there was the sudden shimmer of orbs and then Chris appeared. His expression was worn and haggard, and his green eyes were clouded with an emotional tumult and exhaustion. Before he had even fully formed, he was turning towards Piper and raising a hand in a placating movement.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Piper stared at him, her expression hard and unforgiving. "You pushed me, ran out on a conversation, and then blocked yourself so that no magic could find you, and you did all of that after telling me that you knew who turned my son evil, and all you have to say is _sorry_?"

"I told you…"

"I _know_ what you told me," Piper snapped, "but Wyatt is _my_ son."

Leo intervened, not willing to wait for Piper to finish her rant. "Did you find out if the demon that turns Wyatt is working alone?"

Chris turned towards Leo and nodded. "Lucifer told me what I wanted to know," he said slowly. He didn't say anything else.

"Well?" Piper prompted impatiently. "Are you going to tell us or give us more nonsense about how we can't help?"

Chris rubbed his eyes. He looked suddenly very young and vulnerable. "I didn't want to," he admitted, "but I've spend the last five hours thinking it over, and I just don't… I don't think I can defeat this being on my own. I need your help." He turned his attention to Leo. "Lucifer doesn't lie. You understand that, right?"

"Of course," Leo said irritably, annoyed with Chris' stalling.

Chris gave him a searching look, then said, "Please remember that." And in a softer voice, he added, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Paige demanded. "What is this all about? Chris, just tell us already."

"Actually," a new voice said, and Lucifer appeared next to Chris, "your white-lighter would prefer you hear this one from the proverbial horse's mouth." His lips twisted into a grimace. "I never did like that saying. Who really wants to be compared to a horse?"

Leo tensed, every instinct telling him to orb his family away from the monster in front of him. He knew the being was Lucifer simply by the aura he cast, and it made him practically sick to feel that kind of insidious power filling the room.

But he forced himself to remain calm.

"Well?" Piper said in a clipped tone, and it was a testament to how much she wanted this information that she didn't even bat an eye at the devil's abrupt appearance in her home.

Lucifer stared at her.

"What demon is after my son?" Piper demanded, her face flushed red with anger. "Tell me!"

"He isn't a demon," Lucifer replied. "The being that turns your precious Twice Blessed evil is an Elder." His blue eyes turned to Leo and a cruel smile pulled at the corners of his lips. "An Elder by the name of Gideon."

"_No_."

It came out as barely a whisper. Leo could not think, could not get his mouth to form coherent words. There was something heavy resting on his chest, pressing against his lungs, making it impossible to breathe. This was not true, this could not be true.

"An Elder?" he heard Paige say, her voice filled with skepticism. "That's not… why would an Elder…?"

Lucifer must have replied, but Leo didn't hear it. The others in the attic seemed far away, their voices echoing in the distance. He couldn't focus on anything except the sound of Lucifer's voice forming that name.

Gideon.

It reverberated in his head.

Gideon.

"No," he said again, this time in a louder voice. "No. It's not Gideon. It's not. There is no way Gideon would…"

Except…

Lucifer stared at him with sympathetic blue eyes that could not in anyway be trusted and said in a voice filled with absolute honesty, "Gideon is the one who turns Wyatt evil."

This was Lucifer.

Lucifer did not lie.

"Who is Gideon?" Piper asked, turning to her ex-husband.

Leo didn't answer, so Lucifer did it for him. He seemed to take great pleasure in elaborating on the Elder's identity.

"Gideon is an Elder," Lucifer said. "He was your ex-husband's mentor. He took Leo under his wing when Leo first died, taught him how to use his white-lighter powers, how to help his charges. Helped him make sense of the strangeness of being dead and alive at the same time. Helped him move on past the horror of his own death and everything he had seen in the war. Taught him how to be a guardian angel."

Leo shook his head in denial. Gideon was his friend. Gideon was one of the few Elders he trusted implicitly and without hesitation.

Gideon _couldn't_ be the one who turned Wyatt.

"He was one of the few who fought to get the other Elders to allow you and Leo to marry. He was one of the few Elders who insisted that the three of you be allowed to work outside of the rather strict rules each charge is supposed to follow," Lucifer continued. He was speaking to Piper, but his glittering eyes were fixed on Leo. Each word was soft and gentle, and each one twisted the metaphoric knife deeper into Leo's heart.

And the numb disbelief gave way to a simmering fury. Something dark and dangerous pounded through Leo's blood. All he could feel was the sting of an entirely unexpected betrayal and the burning desire to strike back.

He had _trusted_ Gideon.

The feeling of pure hatred washed over him. Gideon had betrayed all of the ideals he had supposedly stood for. He was the one who had taught Leo how to take a stand against seemingly unstoppable evil. He was the one who had believed that every innocent was worth protecting, that every battle was worth fighting, that Good could triumph in the end.

Leo had been scared when he first became a white-lighter. He'd been a boy, really, still in his twenties. The world had been falling apart all around him and then he'd been dead – killed in battle – and then he'd been told he was an angel, and none of it made any sense.

Gideon had made sense. Gideon had shown him how to live after dying.

Gideon was going to turn Wyatt evil.

"Remember that anger, Leo," Lucifer whispered. "Remember that pain and that feeling of betrayal. Remember the desire to make Gideon pay for what he has done. Remember how you feel right at this moment. You're going to need it."

And then Lucifer was gone.


	6. My Soul to Keep

A/N: In response to a couple reviews: Lucifer has a plan (as has been alluded to in the past two chapters) which is currently secret, and because of that, I can't really write anything from his POV without giving things away. So although I do have plans to include his POV at least once, it will be much later in the story. Also, there are still a few chapters until the Charmed Ones and Leo figure out who Chris is (I don't want to say how many, though, because that would give away too much of the plot).

* * *

><p>Chapter Five: My Soul to Keep<p>

Chris rubbed his eyes and watched as Piper poured the last drop of potion into a small vial and set it down on the counter next to the several other potions she had already made. Phoebe was sitting at the kitchen table with a pad of paper and a pencil, composing a spell that would bind Gideon's powers long enough for them to vanquish him. Paige and Leo were talking in hushed whispers near the door, discussing the plan of attack.

Chris felt useless.

He was tired. They were all tired. They needed to get some sleep, needed to refresh themselves, because taking on an Elder – particularly one as strong as Gideon – was not something anyone should do while exhausted. But no one seemed willing to take even a few minutes to think of anything except getting rid of the threat, and sleep was not a luxury they could afford.

Time was not a luxury they could afford.

Chris couldn't really blame them; he felt the same way. But he was also worried that they were rushing into this, that there were bits and pieces that still didn't quite align properly, and it was never a good idea to do something so drastic unless they were sure they'd worked out all the important details.

Of course, some little voice in the back of his mind insisted on reminding him that his reluctance could be do to the fact that this rush to vanquish Gideon meant his time was almost up. When Gideon died, Lucifer would come for his soul. He had no plans to thwart that particular ending. No matter how many times he tried to come up with something that would allow him to keep his soul and still save Wyatt...

It was useless.

But hadn't he known that all along?

"Done," Piper said.

"I'm almost done with the spell," Phoebe added, not looking up from her writing. "I've modified the one we used on the Source. It should work."

Should. It _should_ work. But should wasn't good enough, not really. Not with Wyatt's safety on the line.

Chris rubbed his eyes again and bit back a yawn. "So what is our plan?" he asked.

Piper snorted. "Find Gideon. Vanquish Gideon," she said flatly.

"It won't be that easy," Chris cautioned, throwing her a slightly worried look. Piper was rarely one to take such dangerous risks without a fully formed plan. The fact that she seemed far more interested in finding Gideon than in actually figuring out how they would survive the encounter troubled the young white-lighter quite a bit.

"He'll be in Magic School," Leo said. "There will be students – children – around."

"Magic School?" Paige questioned, eyebrows raised.

"Think Hogwarts, only less British and you don't have to take a train to get there," Chris supplied. He chewed his lip and looked at Leo thoughtfully. He hadn't considered the possibility that there would be children around, hadn't factored that into the equation. How could he have ignored such vital information? How could he have allowed this plan to become almost fully formed without once considering the possibility that there would be collateral damage in the form of children?

Or would there? Given what Lucifer had told him about the deluded Elder, the more Chris thought about it, the more it seemed unlikely that Gideon would willingly let the students come to harm.

"There is a school for magical children?" Piper asked in surprise, turning towards Leo. "Why didn't you ever tell me this? I could have thought about it for Wyatt."

"He's not even one yet," Leo answered. "I figured that we would wait until he was older before discussing that." He cleared his throat awkwardly and averted his gaze, and though he didn't say it aloud, it was clear to everyone in the room that he was also thinking that he hadn't expected he and Piper would be divorced.

Chris didn't want to think about his parents' divorce. He didn't want to think about the fact that Piper blamed him for it, just like Leo had in the beginning.

Didn't want to think about the fact that they were both right - he was to blame.

"I don't think Gideon will risk the children getting hurt," he said finally, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the eldest witch and the Elder.

Piper gave him an incredulous look. "Why? Because he _cares_ about them?" she demanded sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the notion that Gideon could care about _anything_.

"Yes," Chris said simply. Four sets of eyes focused on him, and he said with a heavy sigh, "He's not evil. At least, not the way you're used to thinking about it. He's going after Wyatt because he thinks Wyatt has too much power and he's deluded himself into believing that killing Wyatt is the best way to protect the rest of the world. Including the students." He ran a hand through his hair and met Piper's hard gaze without flinching as he added, "He'll do what he can to protect the students. I don't think he'll grieve too much over any collateral damage, but he certainly won't _want_ them to get hurt."

"Lucifer told you that?" Piper sneered. "Told you that Gideon isn't evil?"

"He can't lie, Piper," Chris said quietly but with a defiant edge to his voice. It was easier to be angry at her than to be sympathetic to her worry and pain. It was easier, because if he let himself care, if he let down the barriers that he _had_ to keep in place around her, it would be all too easy to stop thinking of her as Piper and start thinking of her as Mom.

"So what do we do?" Paige asked. "If we give Gideon time to get the students out of the way, he'll run. If we surprise attack him, the students could get hurt."

"Surprise attack," Chris said immediately. "He's an _Elder_. You're going to need the element of surprise. Besides, Magic School is Gideon's home. Who knows what kinds of advantages he'll have there? Surprise might be the only advantage you get."

"Leo's an Elder, too," Phoebe pointed out.

"I've been an Elder for a few months," Leo replied. "Gideon's been an Elder for a few centuries. I'm not in the same league as he is." He paused, eyes flicking to Piper before he continued, "Besides, someone needs to stay here to protect Wyatt. In case Gideon escapes and comes after him now."

Piper nodded slowly. "You and Chris should stay," she agreed. Turning to Phoebe, she asked, "How close do we need to be to say the binding spell?"

"We're going to need to be in the same room as him," Phoebe replied with a frown, obviously displeased with the answer. "We're binding an _Elder's_ powers, it needs to be close range."

"What is to stop him from orbing out halfway through the spell?" Paige asked.

"We could do an anti-orbing spell on the place," Piper suggested mildly. "If we did it before he…"

"No," Chris and Leo interrupted simultaneously. Chris glanced at Leo, surprised by the Elder's vehemence, and wondered if they were thinking the same thing. He doubted Leo had ever fought an Elder before, but he would at least appreciate the fact that things could go wrong, and it was also necessary to have an escape plan.

And Paige was the best escape plan they could have.

Leo cleared his throat and, after giving Chris a quick look, said, "You don't understand how powerful Gideon is. You're going to need to leave Paige the option of orbing you out of there. In case everything falls apart."

"You don't think we can handle it?" Piper demanded, hands on her hips.

"I think Gideon is stronger than anything you've gone up against except possibly the Source, and I'm not willing to take chances," Leo replied stubbornly.

"He's right," Chris said with a firm nod of agreement. "It does mean taking the risk that Gideon runs, but I think it is far riskier to do it the other way. You three are just going to need to be fast."

"Okay… so, Leo gets us into Magic School, we find Gideon and bind his powers, then…" Paige trailed off and frowned. "Do we have a vanquishing spell or are we hoping that one of those potions will do it?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow at Piper.

"We've got a spell," Chris said grimly and withdrew a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He handed it to Piper, who took it, opened it, and read the spell quickly. Then she nodded.

"Looks good," she said a bit begrudgingly.

Chris swallowed and couldn't meet her gaze. The approval in her voice made him think of his version of Piper and the few times he'd written spells for her. She'd always praised his work, in part because he was good at it, and in part because it was one of the few areas of magic where his abilities surpassed Wyatt's.

Of course, he'd spent quite a bit of time working on this particular spell. Ever since Lucifer had first told him that Gideon was involved, he'd devoted every spare second to researching how to vanquish an Elder. It had to be done in secret, of course, because if any of the Elders had found out what he was up to, it would have been a disaster. But he hadn't survived the hellish future for nothing, and he was good at keeping secrets.

Piper passed the spell to the others, and they each read it and nodded. It called upon the powers of the Halliwell line, as well as a few other, darker magics. Leo must have noticed that, because he stared at the spell for a full minute before giving Chris a level look.

Chris met his gaze and waited. The darker magics were required. There just wasn't another way for a witch to vanquish an Elder. Some demons could probably manage it, and the other Elders could vanquish one of their own, but witches… even strong ones like the Charmed Ones…

Leo finally nodded his consent. "It should work," he said, sounding displeased. The sisters either didn't notice his reluctance or didn't care enough to comment on it, but Chris knew how difficult it must be for Leo to agree to such a spell. It went against everything he believed and all the things he stood for... but then, so did working with Lucifer. And plotting to kill an Elder.

And he had agreed to all of it. If that wasn't a sign of just how much Leo was willing to do for his Wyatt, Chris didn't know what was.

Or was it just a sign of how much he hated Gideon? How much the betrayal was still eating away at him, twisting his insides?

"I'm going to check on Wyatt," Piper said, stepping out of the kitchen quickly. Leo seemed to have the same idea, and he followed her without much pause.

Chris watched them go, then let his thoughts wander to Lucifer. He _knew_ he hadn't thought through this deal as much as he should have before making it. Lucifer had other plans, and even if Chris didn't know what they were, he knew that they wouldn't bode well for his family.

But more than that... in some ways, it felt almost as though he had given in without a fight. In the future, he'd been forced to work with demons, and on a few occasions, to work with Wyatt himself. He had never made a deal he couldn't find a way out of, and he had never created a plan that didn't somehow favor him in the end. But Lucifer had wanted his soul, and Chris had agreed to that exchange and hadn't tried to find a way out.

Logically, he knew that there _wasn't_ a way out. Lucifer wasn't a demon, and he wasn't Wyatt. He was more than that - worse than that. Chris hadn't been lying when he told the Charmed Ones that the most anyone could ever hope for when dealing with Lucifer was to figure out exactly what they were willing to sacrifice and make sure not to lose anything else.

He knew what he was willing to sacrifice. His soul.

But Lucifer _had_ other plans. So had Chris really made sure that the devil wouldn't take anything else?

Or had he just given up?

Phoebe looked over at Chris. "You lied," she said, breaking into his thoughts.

"Uh…"

"About knowing Lola. When I told you about my premonition, you knew who she was. And you lied," Phoebe elaborated.

Chris debated lying again, or trying to evade the question, but knew he wouldn't be able to succeed. Paige was watching him suspiciously, and Phoebe had a rather shrewd look in her eyes.

"Yes," he said simply. He didn't bother saying anything else. He'd already explained his reasons for not telling them about the deal with Lucifer, and if they didn't believe him, there was little he could do to change that.

"She wasn't there," Phoebe said.

"Uh… not following the conversation, Phoebe," Chris said pointedly.

Phoebe sighed. "Lola. She wasn't at P3 last night. Lucifer was, but she wasn't… and my premonition showed _her_ being vanquished. Not him."

"Maybe it wasn't supposed to happen last night," Chris suggested. "Maybe your premonition takes place tonight or tomorrow night."

But Phoebe shook her head. "No. It was last night. I'm sure of it."

Chris considered this for a long moment, then heaved a sigh. "I warned Lola," he admitted, wondering how Phoebe would react to that bit of information. "After you told me about the premonition, I warned her to stay away from P3. Maybe that was all it took. Maybe she _was_ going to be there last night, but because of my warning…" He trailed off and waited for a response, half-expecting a tirade about working with demons or preventing them from being vanquished.

Phoebe chewed her lip, her head tilted the side and her eyes slightly unfocused. "Maybe," she agreed slowly, "but… I don't know. Something feels off about that… Usually it takes a lot more than just a warning to stop a premonition from coming true…"

Chris opened his mouth to reply, though he wasn't entirely sure what he would say, but Piper and Leo chose that moment to enter the kitchen again, and all thoughts of Phoebe's premonition were pushed aside.

"Alright, let's walk through the plan one more time," Piper said, her voice hard and dangerous, "and then let's go find this Gideon."

* * *

><p>The hallway seemed to stretch on for eternity.<p>

Piper glanced around anxiously, noting the several students making their way from room to room. None of them seemed aware of the presence of the three Charmed Ones, and Piper allowed herself a small smile of triumph. The spell to cloak them was clearly working.

Paige met her eyes, worried. It was one thing to cloak themselves from mortal children. It was something else entirely to cloak themselves from an Elder.

They continued walking.

Leo had opened a door for them into Magic School. It had been strange to have a doorway suddenly appear in the middle of the Manor, but Leo had cautioned that Gideon would be able to sense it if they orbed directly into the school. In fact, he would be able to sense any kind of magic in the school, which meant that they couldn't use their active powers until they were ready to confront him or they would lose the element of surprise.

Even the cloaking spell was a risk, but it was a calculated one. They couldn't afford to get any students involved.

Piper curled her fingers over the potion vial she was holding in one hand and struggled to keep the rage burning inside of her under control.

This wasn't like any other demon vanquish. This was someone they should have been able to trust.

And this was someone who would turn her son evil.

She hadn't felt this way since they'd faced Shax after Prue's death.

Leo had been able to describe the layout of Magic School, and Chris had drawn them a rudimentary map. His knowledge of the school was a bit surprising, but Piper hadn't questioned it. It was helpful to know where they would most likely find Gideon, and she could question Chris later.

Unless Lucifer came for him before she had a chance.

She pushed that thought away. It was hard to accept how much Chris was willing to sacrifice to save the future, particularly given his past actions. Leo had told her once that he trusted Chris' motives, if not his judgment, and Piper was starting to agree.

Except, of course, that she was _glad_ for what he had done.

Anything to save her son.

Phoebe helped up a hand to stop them and then pointed to a door on their left.

Gideon's office.

It felt anticlimactic. Here they were, standing outside the office of their known enemy, about to start a battle with an Elder. There were no trumpets or drums. There wasn't even the usual rush of adrenaline that accompanied the beginning of a large battle.

It made Piper nervous.

Paige glanced around the hallway. Most of the students who had been wandering about were gone, but there were a few still around, and they would be easy targets if anything got out of hand. The youngest Charmed One unfolded a piece of paper and read quickly. The spell would be subtle enough to keep the students away without them being aware that they _were_ being kept away.

"Send all away from this place, block the students from this space, to keep them safe from the fight and keep us hidden from their sight."

Then she nodded to Phoebe, and the middle Charmed One walked forward and kicked the door open.

Gideon's office was not large, and it was crammed with tables, shelves, chairs, and books. The clutter made it look smaller than it actually was. One of the walls was covered with a large curtain, and in the center of the room sat a small circular table with a chessboard on it.

Gideon himself stood over the chessboard.

He looked up at the door, eyes widening in surprise. Piper knew he wouldn't be able to see anything – the cloaking spell would keep them hidden – but Leo warned her that Gideon wouldn't need to see them to be able to sense exactly where they were, and before she could even attempt to attack him, he had flung out one hand and muttered a word that pushed aside the veil hiding them and left the three sisters in plain view.

His eyes narrowed.

Piper's heart jumped into her throat.

"The Charmed Ones," Gideon said, adopting a tone of surprise. "Forgive me, I was not expecting you. Is something wrong? Has Leo sent you?"

Piper felt a surge of rage at his words, and the world simmered red before her eyes. How dare he pretend that he was on their side? How dare he stand there and act as though he was anything but the enemy?

Did he really think that they didn't _know_?

Phoebe held the binding spell out in front of her, and Piper and Paige came quickly to her side. Without waiting to see Gideon's response, they started reading.

"Prudence, Patricia, Penelope, Melinda, Astrid, Helena, Laura, and Grace…"

Gideon reacted instantly, flinging out one arm and sending a wave of energy towards the sisters. The air around him rippled with the intensity of the blast, but Piper raised her hands and froze the energy before it could hit them. The air in front of her remained distorted, and the energy didn't dissipate. She had no idea how long it would stay frozen, but hopefully long enough to finish the spell.

"Halliwell witches stand strong beside us…"

Gideon snarled, his face twisted in pain. The spell was already starting to take effect, slowly forcing its way around his powers.

It might have weakened his slightly, but it also served to make him furious.

And desperate.

Electricity burst from his fingertips, but this time, instead of aiming it at the Charmed Ones, he directed it towards the ceiling above them. It hit the ceiling and caused the stone to splinter, and then everything caved inwards, spewing fragments of rock down on the three sisters.

Piper had only a second to recognize the fact that she was not going to be able to freeze the entire ceiling in time, then she felt Paige's hand on her arm and her body dissolved into white and blue lights.

They reappeared on the other side of the room. Piper stumbled and caught herself against a bookshelf. Phoebe, too, seemed disoriented by their sudden orbing, but Paige landed steadily on her feet. And as Piper cast her gaze towards the doorway of the room, she realized with horror that it was probably only Paige's quick thinking that had saved their lives.

The energy wave that Gideon had initially thrown at them had unfrozen at the same time that the ceiling collapsed, and the entire doorway had born torn apart.

They would have been killed beneath the falling rubble.

Gideon spun to face them, and Piper wondered vaguely why he didn't just flee. He could orb away; he had the perfect opportunity to do so while they were still disoriented. But maybe his arrogance made him stay put. Maybe he truly did not believe that they were a threat to him.

He was an Elder, after all.

Phoebe groaned in obvious pain, but then continued with the binding spell, and Paige and Piper quickly joined in.

"Bind the powers of this being, prevent his…"

Piper's words broke off with a cry of shock as Gideon flung his chess set at her. The pieces transformed midair, growing larger and seemingly coming to life, and Piper found herself facing a two-foot tall White Queen with a sword made of solid stone.

She blew up the Queen.

"Chess set!" Paige cried, extending on hand and redirecting the pieces back towards Gideon.

But Gideon merely waived his hand and the pieces became inanimate once more. He then snarled something, a few words Piper couldn't hear, and Paige screamed in pain and clutched her head. She fell to her knees, her cries becoming choked, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

She fell over completely, unconscious.

Without Paige, they didn't have the power of three. Without Paige, they couldn't say the binding spell.

Without Paige, they couldn't orb out of Magic School.

"You fools," Gideon spat. "What are you doing? What evil has gotten to you?"

"You're plotting to kill my son!" Piper spat, fear for Paige mixing with her fury and her desire to protect Wyatt at all costs.

"Piper, he's drawing power from the school," Phoebe hissed warily, even as she rubbed at her head. Piper didn't bother asking how Phoebe knew that, she just merely nodded, and Phoebe fell into a defensive stance as she added, "He's stronger than us… stronger than even he should be…"

"What are you talking about?" Gideon asked, ignoring Phoebe and focusing on Piper. "Piper, listen to me. Something has corrupted your mind, twisted your thoughts. You need to let me help you. _Please_."

His voice was gentle, soothing. His words were calm and measured, and the look of fury that had sparkled in his eyes when he attacked them was gone now, replaced by something softer. Something Piper desperately wanted to trust.

But all she had to do was look at the ruined half of the room, at the broken stone littering the ground, and the place where the wall had been torn away by the force of Gideon's power, and the muddled thoughts quickly evaporated from her mind.

Gideon _wasn't_ trustworthy.

"I'm not the one who has turned evil," Piper said coldly. And she lifted her hands and flicked her wrists at him, intent on blowing him up. He blocked the first attack, but she kept going, over and over and _over_. She slowly backed him across the room, refusing to let up, refusing to give him the slightest chance to catch his breath. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears and could feel the rage simmering just below her skin, and even though it felt like her emotions were taking over her rational thought, even though the idea of losing herself completely in this anger scared her, she didn't stop.

Blowing him up wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt.

She _wanted_ him to hurt.

The final attempt did succeed, and Gideon exploded into tiny blue and white lights. But before his orbs had disappeared completely, Phoebe had flung a potion vial at him, the top partially unscrewed. The vial spilled in midair, potion falling onto the orbs, and the room was filled with the sound of Gideon's disembodied screams.

He reappeared a moment later, stumbling backwards. There were burns on his skin, and blood on his robes.

Phoebe kicked him as hard as she could in the chest. Gideon hit the wall with a resounding thud, but retaliated quickly, and lashed out at Phoebe with one arm. His elbow made contact with her side and she doubled over with a groan, but then kicked his feet out from underneath him and sent him to the floor.

"Piper!" Phoebe called, shoving a piece of paper at Piper without taking her eyes away from Gideon, "Say the vanquishing spell!"

One witch saying the spell wouldn't be enough to vanquish Gideon, but it might at least slow him down. Weaken him.

Piper started reading.

"Hear now the words of the witches, the secrets we hid in the night…"

Gideon flung an energy ball at Phoebe, but she levitated over it and it slammed harmlessly into the wall behind her. His next attack, another energy ball, hit her in the chest, but it was not strong enough to cause any lasting harm.

Just pain and distraction.

"…that darkness should soon vanish and good shall win this fight…"

Phoebe gasped in pain and threw another potion at Gideon, but he dodged it easily.

"…outside of time, outside of gain, know only sorrow, know only pain…"

Phoebe tried again, this time throwing another potion and timing it to coincide with a kick, but he caught her leg and pulled her forward and off-balance. She fell, collapsing at his feet, and Gideon's eyes narrowed dangerously as he orbed an athame into his hand and lifted it above her.

In a rush of adrenaline and fear, Piper practically screamed the last words of the spell, "We call upon the fires of hell and let Death takes you with this spell!"

Gideon gave a howl of rage as his body was engulfed in black and red waves of light. He took a few steps backwards, dropping the athame. It clattered to the floor, but the sound was overwhelmed by the Elder's continued screams. His face contorted and the light pushed in on him, but it didn't seem to be enough to vanquish him.

In the middle of it, he orbed away.

Piper fell to her knees beside Phoebe. "You okay?" she asked hoarsely, her words echoing in the sudden stillness of the room.

Phoebe pushed herself to a sitting position and nodded wearily. "Gideon got away," she muttered.

"Yeah," Piper said, her voice hard. "We need to get back to the Manor. _Now_."

"Then we need to wake up Paige," Phoebe said, eyeing the entrance to the office. It was completely blocked by the fallen ceiling. There was no way out of the room besides orbing.

* * *

><p>Wyatt was sleeping.<p>

He looked angelic, his blonde hair forming loose curls, his eyes closed, his head resting against the white of the pillow. Leo stared at him for a long moment, watching the way his small chest rose and fell with each steady breath. He had never imagined that being a father would feel quite like this: the strange mixture of fierce love and never-ending worry.

He glanced over at Chris. The brunette white-lighter was standing by the window of the nursery, staring out at the sky. He was clearly lost in his own thoughts, but the tension in the lines of his body and the way his hands were clenched at his sides showed that, despite his wandering thoughts, he was alert and prepared for anything.

"You're worried," Leo said.

Chris continued staring out the window. "Yes," he said softly, so softly that Leo had to strain to catch the answer.

"About Gideon or Lucifer?" Leo questioned.

Chris snorted and responded in a slightly louder voice, "I'm not afraid to lose my soul."

That was a blatant lie, one that Leo had no problem seeing through.

It also wasn't what Leo had meant.

The Elder looked back at Wyatt and said quietly, "There's no shame in... in being afraid. And Chris... We... _I_... I do appreciate what you're doing for my son. I know I didn't get a chance to say it before and... and I might not have a chance to say it... _after_."

After this was over. After the Charmed Ones vanquished Gideon. After the threat to Wyatt was removed.

After Lucifer came for Chris' soul.

Chris didn't say anything, so Leo continued, "But that wasn't what I meant."

Chris stiffened, but he at least didn't pretend to misunderstand what Leo was getting at it. He was silent for a moment, then said "I'd be a fool to trust Lucifer. I'd be a fool to believe my soul is the only thing he plans to take. And of all the things you can - and _have_ - accused me of being, a fool isn't one of them."

And, quite suddenly, Leo had to know. It was a question he hadn't asked in a long time, not since he had finally decided that the answer didn't matter to him. This trusting Chris had crept up on him slowly and by degrees. First Chris had saved the sisters from Gith, then his fiancé had been killed, then he had saved Wyatt from the Order…

He trusted Chris, he did.

But now he had to know. Or, at least, he had to hear Chris admit the truth that he already knew.

"Chris," he said, and waited until Chris was facing him fully before continuing, "Did you send me to Valhalla?"

Chris started, and then a bitter smile formed on his features. "You really have a one-track mind, don't you?" he said, rolling his eyes.

Leo remained silent, waiting for Chris to answer.

Chris continued to stare at him for a few minutes, then he said with heavily, "Yes. But you already know that, so why are you asking?"

Leo shrugged and looked back at Wyatt. "I just don't understand _why_. And I want to. I want to know why you thought it was necessary to get rid of _me_ to protect _my_ son." He tried his best to keep his voice neutral, but he couldn't help the slightly acrimonious tone. Chris hadn't felt a need to send Piper away, to trap her on an island and force her to spend months fighting. Why had it been so important to get rid of Leo?

Chris opened his mouth, and it was clear he was about to snap back with an instinctual reply. Anger and accusation flashed in his green eyes, and his cheeks were suddenly flushed with a faint pink.

He stopped himself. Leo watched in mild surprise as Chris physically forced his emotions back under control. He hadn't expected the question to elicit quite _that_ response.

"You'd be watching me," Chris said finally. "I never meant to tell you about Wyatt being evil, but I thought if you were watching me, you'd start questioning my motives and I didn't want to waste time arguing with you."

Leo narrowed his eyes. That wasn't the full truth. It wasn't even a particularly good half-truth.

"Kidnapping me certainly wasn't going to make me trust you," the Elder said pointedly. "If you didn't want me questioning your motives, why would you take that risk?"

Chris shrugged. "I didn't think I had a whole lot of options," he answered. Again, it was clear that there was something else he wasn't saying, and Leo was about to press the issue, when Chris said, "You know that there will be repercussions from this."

It wasn't a question, but Leo answered anyway, "Yes."

"The Elders…"

"I _know_," Leo said sharply. It had taken him a while to get past the string of betrayal at the revelation of what Gideon was planning, but once he had finally been able to push that aside and focus on the task at hand, he had been left with the unsettling realization that the Charmed Ones were planning on killing an Elder… and the other Elders would not approve of that. Regardless of what Gideon had done.

Leo looked down at Wyatt. He didn't really want to think about it, about what they might all end up losing because of this. But it was Wyatt, it was his son.

It was worth it.

And then, without warning, Chris was telekinetically thrown off his feet and sent flying into the wall. His head slammed against the wood and he slumped over, unconscious. Wyatt woke up at the noise and his shield rose almost immediately, the force-field hovering over him in a dome of protective energy. Leo stared at his son, and then at Chris, and then turned his attention towards the doorway of the nursery.

Gideon stood there.


	7. Let It Burn

A/N: Some of the dialogue in this chapter is taken from _It's a Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad World_. Also, this is definitely my favorite chapter so far (although maybe that is just because I really like Lucifer...) so I hope you all enjoy it, too.

Chapter Six: Let It Burn

Gideon's clothing was singed and his hair was ruffled, and a dark bruise was already appearing on his forehead. There was blood on his clothing and on his hands. And something twisted in Leo's stomach and his heart burned with an intense desire to cause as much pain as possible to the Elder standing before him.

He clenched his hand into a fist, electricity dancing around his fingers.

"He made a deal with Lucifer, Leo," Gideon said, his voice hoarse and rough as he eyed Leo's closed fist. "With _Lucifer_. You cannot trust a word he says, you cannot trust him with your family." His eyes darted past Leo towards Chris still form. "We'll send him back to the future. He doesn't belong here."

"_You_ don't belong here," Leo answered, his voice filled with raw anguish and fury. "How _dare_ you pretend as though you care at all about this family while you stand there plotting to murder my son?"

"Leo, please… you have to understand," Gideon said, a pleading note in his voice. "I am only doing this for the greater good. I swear."

"How is killing a child ever for the greater good?" Leo demanded, striding forward. "Who are you to decide that?"

He looked over Gideon, and it took him only a moment to notice several things. Gideon was leaning against the doorframe, holding himself up with one arm. He was shaking from the exertion, his energy clearly drained. His skin was far more pale than usual, and there was a look of desperation in his eyes.

He was still powerful. And he was still dangerous. Or perhaps he was even more dangerous _because_ of how desperate he was.

"I'm an Elder,' Gideon said evenly. "So are you. This is what we do."

"If this is what it means to be an Elder," Leo sneered, "then I am not one of you anymore." And he drew back his arm to punch Gideon in the face.

Gideon stopped the blow, one hand springing forward and closing around Leo's wrist in a vice-like grip. His eyes flashed, and he flung Leo backwards several feet.

"I don't want to fight you," Gideon said as Leo hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him. "Please don't make me."

Leo extended a hand and a stream of pure electricity burst from his palm and raced towards Gideon. The other Elder simply extended his own hand and _caught_ the electricity, holding it between his fingers.

"I've been an Elder far longer than you, Leo," Gideon said softly, looking down at the crackling electricity. "You can't beat me. But I _don't_ want to fight you." He turned and tossed the electricity at Wyatt's shield, and though the shield managed to deflect it, Leo saw with no small amount of horror that the force-field flickered under the onslaught.

Wyatt started crying again.

"You son of a bitch!" Leo spat, surging to his feet and charging towards Gideon.

Gideon grabbed Leo's arm as the two collided and managed to throw him off-balance. Leo stumbled past Gideon, but steadied himself against the wall and then slammed his elbow backwards and into Gideon's nose. Gideon cried out in surprise and pain, and the momentary distraction was all that was required for Leo to grab Gideon by the front of his shirt and toss him out into the hallway.

Away from the nursery. Away from Wyatt.

Gideon rolled as he hit the floor, and then rose to standing. He reached out to steady himself on the wall once more, casting a quick glance behind him towards the stairs. Then he looked back at Leo and said, "Listen to me. You know what happens, you know what Chris came here to stop. Let me finish what I started. Let me save the future the only way it can be saved."

Leo saw red. The fire of his fury and anger burned brightly until everything in front of him became a shimmering haze of rage he couldn't control, and the electricity exploded from his hands before he realized what he was doing. Gideon raised a shield to protect himself, and electricity rebounded from the shield and hit the wall, creating a large hole. But the force of Leo's attack still knocked him backwards, off his feet.

And down the stairs.

He hit the ground level in a heap, but didn't stay down. He was on his feet before Leo could make it down the stairs, and he responded with an attack of his own, sending a bolt of electricity towards Leo. It struck Leo in the chest and sent him sprawling on the stairs, but it hadn't been strong enough to do much more than knock him over.

"Don't make me hurt you," Gideon said, his tone a mixture of pleading and anger. "I don't want this, Leo."

"_You_ are the reason the future is threatened, Gideon," Leo spat. He tasted blood in his mouth and realized he had bitten his tongue.

Gideon narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Wyatt turns because of what you did to him," Leo pressed, stumbling down the stairs. "_You_, Gideon. You are the one who destroyed the future, you are the one who created the threat. And I'm going to _end_ it."

"You would kill me?" Gideon asked softly. "I was your mentor, Leo. I guided you, helped you, took care of you. You were lost and scared and confused and _I_ showed you how to become the white-lighter you were then, and the Elder you are now. I fought for you and Piper, fought for your dreams and your future. And you would repay me by killing me?"

Leo hesitated. Gideon _had_ done all of those things, and hearing the words only made it that much harder to believe that the man standing in front of him was his enemy. This was _Gideon_, and as a young white-lighter, Leo had trusted Gideon long before he had trusted anyone else.

How could Gideon turn on him?

But he had. He _had_ turned on all of them. There was no denying that.

Gideon was planning to kill Wyatt. Gideon would turn Wyatt evil.

Betrayal and fear filled his body, wrapping around every fiber of his being, and Leo's features hardened.

This time Gideon threw a bolt of electricity with enough strength and power to cause more than a little damage, and Leo only barely ducked away in time. The electricity hit him in the shoulder, and it felt as though his entire arm had suddenly exploded. The pain took his breath away and forced him to his knees. Spots danced in front of his eyes and his vision blurred.

He was numbly aware of the fact that, had he not moved as quickly as he had, the electricity would have hit him in the chest…

And killed him.

"I thought you didn't want to hurt me," Leo gasped, blinking in an effort to clear his vision.

Gideon loomed over him, an indistinct shadow. "I don't," he said sadly, and his voice sounded far away, as though it was reaching Leo from across a great distance. "But I will if I have to. You're blinded by your emotions, Leo. You can't see the truth… the necessity. I've sworn to protect the world, and I will. No matter the cost."

"Even if the cost is my son?" Leo murmured, struggling to catch his breath. "A child, not even one year old yet?"

"You need to stop seeing him as what he is now, and start thinking about what he will become," Gideon answered. "A monster."

"I won't let you kill him," Leo warned, forcing electricity into his fingers. Summoning the power took effort, and the strain left him even more breathless. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he smelled blood. His own blood, seeping into the shoulder of his shirt, staining the fabric red.

"You can't stop me," Gideon replied.

And then he was flung off his feet.

Leo turned his head and saw Chris standing at the top of the stairs. His eyes were unfocused and he was leaning heavily against the railing of the stairs, not quite able to stand upright on his own. But his right arm was extended in front of him, and his face was turned towards Gideon in a snarl.

It was all the opening Leo needed.

He surged to his feet and sent the electricity – powerful enough to kill – flowing from his hand. Gideon was taken by surprise, and did not react in time to stop the attack. The electricity hit him fully in the chest and he screamed, his face twisted in rage and pain.

"You… have no idea…" he cried out, gasping for breath as he uttered the choked words, "what you have… done…"

The electricity lifted him into the air and he hung there, body writhing, voice shrieking.

Until it was over. Until his dead body turned to ash.

Leo sunk to his knees.

* * *

><p>Piper winced inwardly as Leo flinched away from her. She gave him an apologetic smile and he sighed. She sighed as well, and went back to cleaning the wound on his shoulder. She didn't want to hurt him, but there was nothing she could do to stop the pain he was feeling.<p>

She wasn't really sure how much of it was due to the gaping hole in his shoulder and how much was due to Gideon's betrayal.

"I still don't understand why that didn't just heal itself," Paige said, frowning at Leo. "All of your injuries heal themselves. Why is this different?"

"Elder powers are like dark-lighter arrows," Leo said, wincing through clenched teeth. "We can't heal those wounds in our own body. It's just the way it is."

"We could get another Elder to heal him," Phoebe suggested. She was standing as far away from the others as possible, but it was clear from the strained look in her eyes that even that was not helping. Her empath powers were picking up all of the pain – both emotional and physical – in the room, and she could only just barely stand it.

Leo shook his head slowly, and Piper watched as he looked past her and met Chris' steady gaze. Chris had his lips pursed together, and his face was extraordinarily white.

"Not yet," Leo said quietly. "We can't go to the Elders yet."

"Why not?" Piper demanded, looking at Chris.

But it was Leo who answered. "We just killed one of them, Piper. I don't know yet how they'll react to that."

"He was going to murder my son!" Piper snapped. "They can't possibly _defend_ him!"

But even as she said the words, she wondered if that was true. It was Leo who had actually killed Gideon. Would they be willing to heal him now? Or would they try to recycle his soul as they had threatened to do whenever he displeased them in the past?

Leo hissed out a breath and closed his eyes as she pressed slightly too hard against his shoulder with the cloth in her hand.

"Sorry," she said quickly.

Leo opened his eyes and gave her a tired smile. "It's okay," he murmured.

Chris made a sudden, jerky movement, his eyes focused on something behind Piper, and the eldest Charmed One frowned and turned to follow his gaze, tensing in case she needed to attack something.

Lucifer stood there.

"The Elder Gideon is dead," he said, his eyes surveying the room thoughtfully. "And you are all alive. I'm impressed. You are a more talented family than I had previously given you credit for." His blue eyes flicked to Chris. "Deal's done. I'm here to collect what is mine."

Then Lucifer waived his hand, and before their very eyes, Chris disappeared.

"Wait!" Piper called out, but it was too late. Chris was gone, and she stared at the place where he had stood and felt something sharply painful pierce her heart. Lucifer gave her a surprised look, and she let out a breath and murmured, "I just wanted to say thank you."

She had thought there would be more time. Or perhaps she had decided it would be best to completely ignore the deal Chris had made. Either way, she hadn't yet had a chance to tell him that she was sorry for all her doubts and distrust. He'd sacrificed everything for their family, and she wanted him to know that she was grateful.

It was clear now that, despite the manipulation and lies, his motives had been good.

"I'll pass along the message," Lucifer promised. "I haven't taken his soul yet, I've just sent him to a… well, something rather like limbo. I'll tell him that you are thankful for his sacrifice when I go collect his soul."

Piper raised an eyebrow. "Okay," she said slowly, not quite trusting him but at least able to take comfort in the fact that he would do as he said because, as Leo and Chris had repeatedly told her and she was now slowly beginning to accept, he could not lie.

Lucifer studied her for a moment, then added, "And just remember, should you ever decide you want to undo the deal and bring your white-lighter back, Wyatt _will_ turn evil."

"Why would we want to undo the deal?" Piper asked suspiciously. Had he betrayed them somehow? Was there something he wasn't saying, some price they would all have to pay that she did not yet know about?

Would he come after Wyatt or her sisters? Or Leo?

Lucifer smiled serenely. "It's just a warning," he said softly, eyes flicking away from her to stare at the others in the room. "Nothing more."

"But… we _won_," Piper protested. "Wyatt is safe."

Lucifer met her gaze again with an inscrutable expression. "Wyatt is safe," he agreed. "But still… You _lost_." And then he disappeared as well.

* * *

><p>It didn't take long for the Elders to call Leo.<p>

Piper was flipping through the Book, obsessively looking for something that would explain Lucifer's cryptic last words. No matter how many times Phoebe tried to reassure her that it was just Lucifer trying to mess with their minds, trying to make things worse for them now that Wyatt was finally safe, Piper refused to let go of the fear that the devil's parting words had conjured for her.

Because Lucifer had told her that she had lost, and Lucifer couldn't lie.

Paige and Phoebe were there as well, playing with Wyatt. Or, more accurately, keeping an eye on him if only to assure themselves that it really _was_ over.

And then there was the elephant in the room. Or, again more accurately, the elephant that was no longer in the room. That would never be in the room again.

Chris.

Leo knew it was bothering Piper, though he had a feeling she wouldn't be willing to admit to that any time soon. But no matter all the things Chris had done to them in the past – he had sacrificed his soul to save their son. And every harsh word Piper had ever uttered, every accusation they had thrown his way – no matter how valid and warranted it had been at the time – was now coming back to haunt her.

Leo wanted to say something to make it better. He wanted to ease her guilt about Chris and her worry about Lucifer's words. He wanted to hold Wyatt and promise his son that nothing would ever hurt him again.

And then the Elders summoned him.

Leo lifted his head towards the ceiling in acknowledgement of the call. Paige noticed this and straightened quickly, trading a pointed look with Phoebe.

"Paige and I were thinking that maybe one of us should go with you," Phoebe said quietly. She didn't say anything else, but it was painfully obvious to Leo just _why_ she thought he might need their support. Like Leo, they were considering the possibility that his actions would have serious repercussions for him, and he might need their backing.

Or their firepower.

But Leo shook his head. Quite apart from the fact that he didn't want to drag them into this mess if he could help it, he also doubted the Elders would take kindly to him bringing any of the Charmed Ones to a meeting that was clearly intended only for Elders. It would be better to wait, to hear what they had to say. It would be better to play by the rules.

For now.

"Let me go on my own," he said, his eyes drifting from Phoebe to Wyatt. The boy was on the floor, playing with a few large plastic blocks. He seemed completely oblivious to everything happening around him.

He had no idea how close he had come to turning evil.

A lump formed in Leo's throat. "I'll let you know if I need… anything," he said, his words filled with emotion.

Paige didn't look convinced, and Piper had turned away from the Book long enough to give Leo a worried glance, but Phoebe just shrugged and said, "Okay. If you think it is for the best…"

"I do," Leo said. The call came again, this time more urgent. He rolled his eyes at the Elders' impatience, then said, "I'll be back soon."

And he dissolved into orbs.

He reformed in the white of Up There, in the center of a ring of five Elders. There was Aravis, who had first warned him of Lucifer's presence, and Sigmund, who had been Gideon's assistant at Magic School. There was Giselle, who Leo had only spoken to once or twice in his entire time as a white-lighter and then Elder, and Michael, who was rumored to have been alive during the Crucifixion, and Zola, who had shown understanding and compassion towards Leo more than once.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," Leo said, feeling slightly uncomfortable about the fact that they had him surrounded. He doubted they would attack without warning – he had to forcefully remind himself that they were not all like Gideon – but he still didn't like feeling exposed.

"You should have come the moment we summoned you, Leo," Michael said gravely, his tone filled with censure. "You know the reason for the summons."

Leo let his gaze sweep around the rest of Up There. It was devoid of all other Elders and white-lighters. Clearly, these five had wanted to speak to him alone.

He supposed he should at least be grateful that they had wanted to speak with him instead of convening all the Elders and holding a trial.

As if reading his thoughts, Zola said, "There are others who would sentence you for your crime, Leo, without hearing your defense first. We thought it would be best to avoid that… but don't think that this means we have taken what you did lightly."

"What I did?" Leo snapped, already forgetting his earlier determination to stay calm and hear what the other Elders had to say before starting an argument with them. "You mean protecting my son? Stopping an _Elder_ from killing him?"

"I told you he would not feel remorse," Sigmund said haughtily, but then cringed almost the moment Leo spun around to glare at him.

"What is he doing here?" Leo asked angrily, gesturing towards Sigmund with an expression of contempt.

"Sigmund is here because he was closest to a Gideon and therefore represents…"

"Gideon tried to _murder_ my son," Leo said through clenched teeth. "He would have turned him evil. How can you stand there and pretend that I didn't have _every_ right to defend my family?"

"We are your family, Leo," Aravis said. "You are one of us."

"I don't know what I am anymore," Leo replied honestly. "Everything has changed."

"Just because of what Gideon did?" Giselle murmured disapprovingly.

"_Just_ because of what Gideon did?" Leo repeated disbelievingly. "_Just_? How can you act as though his actions were anything but evil? How can you pretend like I should overlook the attempt to murder my son?"

"Good is not perfect," Michael said. "Sometimes it messes up. But that doesn't mean it isn't still _good_. And we _are_ still good, Leo."

"Are we?" Leo retorted bitterly.

"He cannot be reached," Sigmund said softly. "He's beyond us, beyond our ability to help. He has hunted down an Elder and killed him…"

"Gideon was the one who attacked me!" Leo said furiously.

"Because the Charmed Ones tried to kill him," Aravis interjected coolly. "And you helped them with that, didn't you? Or would you really have us believe that they made it into Magic School and to Gideon without any of your assistance?"

"He was trying to kill my son," Leo said again, feeling as though he had repeated this one statement far too many times in the past few minutes. Why couldn't they understand that nothing would ever come before Wyatt? Why couldn't they understand that Leo would destroy _anything_ that came after his child, whether it be good or evil?

"And what proof do you have of that?" Aravis asked.

Leo snorted derisively. "You mean besides Lucifer's word?"

"And what is his word worth?" Michael demanded.

Leo turned to face the eldest of the Elders present and wondered if it was really true that Michael had been around for so long. If it was, then surely he had encountered Lucifer in the past, or at least witnessed the results of the devil's actions.

He lifted his chin and said defiantly, "Are you telling me that Lucifer is now capable of lying?"

Michael stared silently back at him, and did not respond in any way.

Leo turned to Aravis and continued, "I also have Gideon's words. He admitted to being after my son, Aravis. I can show you the memory if you don't believe me. But he _did_ admit to it."

"And so you decided to take matters into your own hands instead of reporting him to us?" Michael asked sharply.

Leo rolled his eyes. "If I had reported him to you, what would have happened? You would want to investigate it, would have wanted to look into every tiny detail, and you would have given Gideon plenty of time to escape and hide somewhere we couldn't find him."

"Well, we do like to be _sure_ of the validity of our accusations before we execute people," Giselle said sarcastically.

"I _was_ sure!" Leo spat. "What else did you want from me?"

"We wanted you to remember your responsibilities," Michael said sternly, "both to us and to the world. Killing Gideon has caused – and will continue to cause – quite a bit of strife among us Elders. It is never good for us to be divided. Our strength lies in our ability to…"

"My responsibilities to my son come first," Leo interrupted without hesitation.

"They are all your sons, your daughters," Aravis countered. "They are the ones you should be protecting… this entire world. They _are_ the greater good. And you cannot protect them by single-handedly taking revenge upon one of our own."

"Gideon stopped being one of us when he went after Wyatt," Leo retorted.

"Oh, but that is not for you to decide," Zola replied. "You are but one voice in a chorus, Leo. We cannot allow you to take matters into your own hands."

"Gideon did," Leo argued.

"Yes, and look what he has wrought," Zola replied reasonably. "We know you believe that the future you were trying to stop was caused because of Gideon's attack on your son. A future of evil, of darkness, of despair. A world spinning out of control. And all because one Elder acted alone."

"I knew what I was doing," Leo growled.

"Gideon thought he knew what he was doing, too," Zola said simply. "And he resorted to murder. Just as you did. And you also resorted to working with the devil and allowing the Charmed Ones to use a spell that invoked dark magics. Because, just like Gideon, you were sure that you knew exactly what you were doing and that it was for the best."

"And, truth be told, Gideon was not alone in his thinking," Michael added. "There are others that share his fears of Wyatt, that your union with a Charmed One might've created too great a concentration of power."

"Wait, so you're on Gideon's side?" Leo demanded in disbelief. Zola's accusations made him shift uncomfortably because he really didn't know how to defend them, but Michael's words pushed away any guilt he might have felt. He had honestly believed that the other Elders, while displeased with his actions, would have at least agreed that Gideon was wrong to attempt to murder a child. How could they ever think otherwise? How could the leaders of _Good_ believe killing a child was an acceptable way to protect the future?

"No," Michael said. "Gideon's methods for dealing with the concern were reprehensible. But the concern itself was understandable."

"The hell it was!" Leo retorted hotly. "Wyatt was only evil because of what Gideon did. He isn't a threat to you or to the world. He's going to end up being one of the greatest sources of good the world has ever seen!"

"The future isn't written in stone, Leo," Giselle said softly. "We don't know what will happen. All we know is that it is important that we continue to work together, to be united against evil. To trust each other. We have to know that you are on our side."

Leo narrowed his eyes, then said with a firmness in his voice that indicated how unwilling he was to compromise, "I am on the side of Good, Giselle. I always have been. And if you are, too, then we remain on the same side."

Giselle's expression twisted into one of dislike and barely concealed anger, but Zola cut in quickly, "We do not wish to fight. But this will not be settled easily, Leo. I will do my best to fix that cracks that have arisen between us due to your actions, but there may still be consequences. For now, it would be for the best if you were to return to the Charmed Ones and stay there until we summon you again."

Leo nodded.

"We will be watching you, Leo," Michael added. "Do not make us regret this leniency."

Leo bit back the acidic retort that it didn't feel at all like _leniency_, and merely orbed away in an angry silence.

* * *

><p>"Piper wants you to know that she's grateful."<p>

Chris started and spun to face Lucifer. He had not heard the devil approach, but perhaps it was because he had a few other things on his mind. For starters, he was currently standing _over_ his body. The body – _his_ body – was collapsed on the floor, and he – or his soul, or whatever he was at the moment – was floating in the air a few inches above it. It was a rather strange sensation, to be separated from his body like this.

It left him feeling helpless. He had no powers, and though he could float about the room, he was unable to leave it.

He stared at Lucifer, and slowly raised his hands to rub his eyes before realizing how absolutely ridiculous it was to attempt that given that neither his hands nor his eyes had any kind of mass.

"Piper's grateful?" he repeated dumbly.

"Yes," Lucifer said. "She wanted a chance to say thank you. Apparently, I took your soul too quickly for her liking." He clicked his tongue in disapproval and added, "I let you stay longer than I do most souls so she really has no right to complain."

"You took my body, too," Chris said, jerking his head at the lifeless form on the floor.

"I thought I'd hold onto it for a bit," Lucifer replied lightly. "It's not like anyone else is going to be needing it."

"It's not like you're going to be needing it, either," Chris countered.

Lucifer gave him an enigmatic smile. "Wait and see, white-lighter. Wait and see."

Chris opened his mouth to ask what Lucifer meant, but then paused and gave the devil a searching look. "You still have something planned," he accused. "This isn't over yet."

"I have your soul," Lucifer replied. "What else do you think I can take from you?"

Chris narrowed his eyes. There was a clue in Lucifer's words, something to tell Chris exactly what was going on, and all he needed was to find it. And then somehow figure out a way to stop it, or warn the Charmed Ones, or _something_.

"So what happens to my soul now?" he asked, stalling.

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "Well, that would be telling, wouldn't it?" he said with a smirk and a trace of malicious glee in his words. "It would ruin the surprise."

Chris shuddered, then forced himself to continue the conversation, hoping to buy enough time to figure out what Lucifer was planning. "I have a feeling even if I knew ahead of time, I still wouldn't be adequately prepared for it."

"Probably not," Lucifer agreed.

"So then why can't you tell me?"

Lucifer turned away from Chris and stared at his body instead. "Habit, I guess," he said softly, nudging Chris' still form with the toe of one shoe. He had a contemplative look on his face.

"You remind me of my brother," Chris commented.

Lucifer gave him a startled look, then his expression turned to one of amusement. "Really?" he asked, letting his gaze wander back to Chris' body. "Interesting." He tilted his head to the side. "I've always been the younger brother. I wonder what it would be like to be the older."

"It's the eyes," Chris murmured. "There's just something about the eyes." Something about the way Lucifer looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and taunting. Something about the way his gaze held both gentle understanding and icy cruelty. Wyatt had been a mass of contradictions as well.

Lucifer had said that there was nothing else he could take from Chris.

The Elders thought it was odd that Lucifer had only become active in order to make a single deal, and that there was no sign of him trying to turn anyone evil.

Phoebe had seen a premonition of Lola being vanquished, and it hadn't come true.

"Oh, God…" Chris whispered, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach.

Lucifer looked at him with a wide smile. "That," he said quietly, "was quite a bit faster than I had guessed. I am impressed, white-lighter. I didn't think you would figure it out so quickly."

"You sent that premonition to Phoebe," Chris accused furiously. "You _planted_ it. You forced the Charmed Ones into this."

"Well, I had to get them involved somehow," Lucifer answered with a shrug. "A premonition seemed the easiest way to do it. They have such a habit of rushing off to investigate those premonitions without any thought as to the consequences of such actions, so this time would hardly be any different."

He turned away from Chris' body, apparently no longer interested in it.

Chris glared at Lucifer, wishing he had his powers. Or the ability to leave the room. He wanted to do something, _anything_, to fight this monster that was threatening his family. But he was powerless, and they both knew it, and Lucifer turning his back on Chris was just another way of driving home that particular point.

Lucifer was taunting him.

"Completely good people are boring," Lucifer said. "All those people who always make the right decision, who never screw up, never make mistakes… do you have any idea how incredibly easy it is to turn them? They've never tasted evil, and they have no protection against it. It's hardly ever worth the time or effort; there's no satisfaction in it." He turned around and considered Chris for a moment, then said, "But the Charmed Ones and their precious Elder… _that_ is something else entirely."

"You won't turn them," Chris snarled.

"What makes you think my plan is to turn them?" Lucifer asked with a smile. "Though, I should point out that, _technically_, I never turn anyone. I just whisper words in their ears and _they_ make all the decisions." He pursed his lips, thinking, then added, "And besides… the Elders talk so frequently about how I turn people, how I start wars, how I make people fight their loved ones… they completely ignore the fact that sometimes I just drive them insane. That's fun, too." Then he laughed callously. "It's all fun. All of it."

"You're different," Chris whispered.

"Ah... yes," Lucifer said, nodding. "I get that quite a lot. People say I seem so sympathetic and understanding when I first come to them, and then, later, when I have their soul, they say they see the real me and if they'd known what I was, they never would have agreed to the deal." He shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "They lie, of course. Because, deep down, they all knew _exactly_ what I really was, but they made the deal anyway."

Chris swallowed uneasily. He had no excuse, no way of pretending that he didn't know just what Lucifer was. He'd been desperate, so he'd taken the deal, believing that he could limit the cost to just his soul.

But now, staring at the blue-eyed being before him, he couldn't help but wonder how he had ever deluded himself into believing that he was smart enough to beat the devil.

In saving Wyatt, had he just made things worse?

"You're going after my family," Chris said numbly. "That's why you got them involved in the first place. So that they would know what I had done, and they would agree with it…" He trailed off in horror. "Oh, _God_. You're going to tell her. You're going to tell Piper who I am."

"No," Lucifer replied, "I'm going to let her figure it out for herself." He gave Chris a wolfish smile. "And believe me; she will. She and that ex-husband of hers."

"You're going after them," Chris whispered, horrified. "_I _was never the target. You're going after them."

"Indeed. Though gaining your soul is a _definite_ fringe benefit." Lucifer gave Chris a smug smile and said, "I have a feeling this is _far_ from over. And let me tell you, Christopher, my plans are going to be fun. Your family has _no idea_ what is in store for them."

And then he extended his hand and took Chris' soul.


	8. Interlude: Realizations

A/N: Just a short interlude to get us to the next part of the story… but don't worry, the next chapter will be up very soon, probably in the next day or two.

* * *

><p>Interlude: Realizations<p>

In the days that followed, Piper tried not to think about Chris. It hurt in ways she didn't fully understand, and though she knew that he had sacrificed himself with full knowledge of the consequences, some part of her wanted to help him. There was no way, of course, because helping him meant losing Wyatt and Wyatt came first. But she still wished it could somehow be different.

The sudden absence of his presence in her life was jarring at first. He wasn't there to force her to go on demon vanquishes or lecture her about putting her wiccan duties ahead of her social life. He wasn't their to spout that hated phrase – future consequences – and it wasn't that she missed any of that, it was merely that she had gotten used to it. His absence was a hole in her life.

But the hole started to close, and life went on.

The Elders kept an eye on Leo, baring him from Up There, following his movements, questioning his actions, and in general treating him like a possible enemy. Leo didn't complain, but Piper felt more than a little annoyed at their unfair treatment of her ex-husband because his intentions had been pure and his actions justified.

And yet, she also felt a little uncomfortable, because it reminded her very clearly of her own treatment of Chris, and hadn't his intentions been pure, too?

It wasn't until three weeks after Lucifer's final appearance in their lives that anyone broached the subject of Chris aloud.

"Do you ever wonder about him?" Phoebe asked one morning, sitting at the kitchen table and attempting to work on her advice column while sipping coffee from a chipped ceramic mug.

Piper looked up from her own mug of coffee and frowned. "Who?"

"Chris," Phoebe replied. "Do you ever… do you ever wonder just how bad the future was? Not in general and not for us, but for him. I mean…" she trailed off for a moment with a thoughtful expression, then continued, "he knew what he was doing. He sacrificed his soul without the slightest bit of hesitation."

"He was trying to save the entire world," Piper said. "He knew that it was more important than a single life. Even his."

Phoebe nodded slowly, chewing her lip. She stared at the computer screen for a moment, then said softly, "It's just, in my experience, people might know that on an intellectual level, but when they finally go through with their plan… they're doing it _for_ someone. People don't sacrifice their lives for the world. They sacrifice themselves for those few individuals who matter so much more to them than the entire world ever could."

Piper hesitated, then shrugged. "Maybe he had a family he was trying to protect. If the entire future was destroyed, his family must have been as well. We know Bianca was." She would lay her own life down for Wyatt in a heartbeat. She'd do it for Phoebe and Paige, too, and even Leo, though she tried not to think about those lingering feelings.

Phoebe said nothing else.

* * *

><p>The Elders were still watching Leo cautiously, Paige's relationship with Richard rapidly spiraled out of control, Phoebe was possessed by the spirit of Mata Hari, and Jason learned about magic. It was an eventful week, and Piper was far too focused on helping her sisters with their respective problems to think about much else.<p>

Then it happened.

She was standing in the nursery, putting Wyatt to bed, when she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye and followed the phantom into the hallway.

It was a young boy. He looked to be about eight or nine, and had a mop of long brown hair and large green eyes. He was chasing another boy – a couple years older, with shorter blonde hair and bright blue eyes – through the hallway and down the stairs.

Then they were both gone, and Piper rubbed her eyes, wondering if she had imagined the entire thing.

Later that night, lying alone in her bed and staring up at the ceiling, she thought about Chris. He passed through her thoughts without much fanfare, just a faint regret she couldn't get rid of, a loss that still hurt even though she should have been rejoicing at the knowledge that Wyatt was now safe.

She wished vaguely that she had known more about him, about his family. He was annoying and secretive and neurotic, but he was brave and determined, too.

She would have liked to tell his parents that they had raised him well.

* * *

><p>Sigmund had taken over Magic School, and it was turning out to be a bit more than he could handle. Then one of the boys conjured the Headless Horseman, and the Elder came to the Charmed Ones for help. Piper was reluctant to even set foot in the school, but Paige convinced her that they had to do whatever they could to protect the teachers. Without Magic School, evil would find it far easier to seep into the lives of all those young and impressionable witches.<p>

Leo, too, had insisted that they help, not because he had any desire to actually do any good for Sigmund, but because he seemed to think that this was a test. Sigmund had been outspoken against him, and refusing to help fight evil now would only give the Elder more of a cause to come after Leo in the future.

So they had done their best to help. Piper had her head cut off, Phoebe went on a vision quest that made no sense to her, and Paige managed to convince the student who had conjured the Horseman that there were other ways of dealing with his insecurities.

After the incident, Phoebe had informed Paige that she would make a great teacher some day, and Paige had replied that Phoebe was crazy. But the rest of the vision quest had been far too confusing for the empath, who told Piper that she had seen two boys – blonde and brunette – playing in the Manor.

Piper felt uneasy, and didn't know why.

Or perhaps she did know why, and didn't want to face it.

* * *

><p>Then Phoebe turned into a genie, Leo stopped Piper from dying, and somehow things became even more complicated between the eldest sister and her Elder ex-husband. When the crisis was over – the real demon back in her bottle and the magical city of Zanbar firmly underground once more – Leo took Piper's hand and she felt a shiver run down her spine.<p>

She caught sight of Leo watching her after that.

And then she knew. It seeped into her conscious, implanting itself firmly in the back of her mind. It waited there, waited patiently until she could no longer ignore it, until all the pieces came together in a stark reality she didn't want to accept. It took her breath away, and still she would not – could not – admit to it.

It was wrong, all wrong.

Even though everything suddenly made sense, even though she felt as though a veil had been lifted from her eyes and for the first time everything was crystal clear, she still could not acknowledge it. But the truth that was there, in the back of her mind, in her heart, in her bones, would not let go of its firm grip on her.

Lucifer's words echoed in her mind.

_You lost._

It wasn't true. Lucifer was lying. He had to be… right?

But Lucifer never lied. And hadn't Chris warned her that it was Lucifer's poisonous truths – sickeningly sweet and so very, very dangerous – that caused the incalculable damage he was capable of?

Leo's father's name was Christopher.

It was wrong. It _had_ to be wrong.

But Leo looked at her, and she knew she was still in love with him, and he was still in love with her, and maybe, just maybe…

They would have another child in the future.

Another son.


	9. Desperate Measures

Chapter Seven: Desperate Measures

"Where are you? Answer me! I know you can hear me, you son of a bitch!" Piper spat, picking up the nearest object – a vase – and throwing it at the wall. It shattered into pieces, but she didn't even flinch. In fact, she barely noticed. Destroying the ceramic object had done nothing to ease the pain and guilt and rage building up inside of her and she desperately wanted to hurt something.

Or someone.

"Don't pretend you're not watching. Don't pretend you haven't been watching all along, gloating as I put the pieces together! You knew this was going to happen. You _knew_ I would figure it out. So show yourself! Answer me!"

"Piper, honey…?" Phoebe poked her head into the attic, eyes wide and filled with unspoken questions. "What are you doing?" Paige and Leo stood behind her, all three clearly afraid to venture into the room while Piper was experiencing what appeared to be a nervous breakdown.

"Show yourself!" Piper snarled again, ignoring them. "_Now_!" She seemed to be yelling at nothing.

Leo edged forward into the room. "Piper… who are you talking to?"

"Come and face me, you coward!" Piper snapped. "Come and face me, you lying, no-good, pathetic excuse for a…"

"Coward?" a voice interrupted coolly, and then Lucifer appeared, reclining easily on the worn sofa opposite Piper. "Oh, now that just _hurts_."

"What are you doing here?" Leo demanded, his voice tense and apprehensive.

"Isn't it obvious?" Lucifer replied, switching his gaze from Piper to Leo and smirking slightly. "Your slightly hysterical ex-wife has been calling for me, and I am merely answering the summons." He rose gracefully to his feet and bowed his head at Piper, mocking laughter in his eyes. "And what do you desire from me, my lady?"

Piper stood frozen. She hadn't really expected Lucifer to appear, and now that he was standing in front of her, she had no idea what to say. "I… how could you…?" she stammered, trying to organize bewildered and furious thoughts.

Lucifer didn't pretend to misunderstand. "It's what I do," he said simply.

"Piper, what is he talking about?" Paige demanded, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"So it's true?" Piper said numbly, her voice hollow. She needed the confirmation even though she had accepted the facts already. She needed to hear Lucifer _say_ it. "Chris is my son."

"He is," Lucifer agreed, inclining his head once more.

"Wh-what? No. _No_!" It was Leo's voice, filled with disbelief, that echoed in the room. "No. You're lying. You… that's not… no… it can't…" His words trailed off, became jumbled and incoherent, and he slowly backed away from Lucifer with a look of indescribable horror on his face.

Piper felt something settle heavily onto her chest. She couldn't breath. The truth was slowly suffocating her, stealing away her oxygen and leaving her desperately gasping for air.

"You know better than that, Elder," Lucifer said softly. "I don't lie."

"No…" Piper whispered faintly.

But it was true. Of course it was true. Hadn't she known that already?

She took a step backwards, sinking against the wall. She wanted to disappear, wanted to sink into the ground. She knew Paige and Phoebe were staring at her, and she knew intellectually that even if she turned to look at them, she wouldn't see condemnation in their eyes. They wouldn't think less of her for what she had unwittingly done.

But she _did_ think less of herself. What kind of mother allows her son to sell his soul to the devil?

What kind of mother hears that her son is planning to do this and feels relief because at least it means that another son will be safe?

She'd chosen Wyatt over Chris. And every logical, rational part of her mind kept pointing out that she hadn't known and wasn't playing favorites with her own children, but that didn't stop the guilt that threatened to overwhelm her.

How had she let this happen?

"Why? _Why_?" Leo asked in a shaky voice. "Why would he do this?" His eyes focused on Lucifer with a look of complete rage. "How dare you do this to him?"

Lucifer smiled benevolently. "I didn't do anything to him," he said, and his tone would have been gentle and kind if not for the fact that his eyes were glittering with triumph. "He made the deal of his own volition, Elder. And I did not take anything from him that he was not already more than willing to part with in order to save his brother."

"You _took_ my son!" Piper spat.

Lucifer shrugged casually. "And I gave you back your other son. Do not forget, Charmed One, that your precious Wyatt was on his way to darkness. You would have lost him soon enough."

"We could have saved him," Piper argued vehemently, tears pricking at her eyes.

"If you had been able to save him," Lucifer said in the same soft tone, "your younger son would not have grown up in a hellish world ruled by a twisted version of his own brother. If you had been able to save him, young Christopher would not have needed to come to the past." He paused, then in a far harsher tone, one that left no room for argument or compromise, he said, "If you had been able to save him, you would have. But you _didn't_."

Piper closed her eyes as the weight of those words fell onto her shoulders. He was right, of course. She had already failed to protect Wyatt once – Chris coming back to the past was proof of that. She had been unable to save Wyatt from the monster he had become, and as a result, Chris had been forced to do her job for her.

And now she had failed to save Chris.

She'd failed both her sons.

What kind of mother was she?

She opened her eyes and gave Lucifer a hard look. "I will get Chris back," she vowed. "I promise you; one way or another, I will get my son back."

Lucifer smiled pityingly. "You can't. Not without undoing the deal Chris made with me. And if you do that… well, your precious Wyatt will be in for a rather nasty surprise."

Piper's eyes narrowed and before she could fully register what she was doing, she had stormed across the room and dug her fingers into the collar of Lucifer's shirt. He was taller than her, but she still succeeded in almost looming over him as she pushed him backwards, shoving his feet and lower legs against the sofa.

"You stay the hell away from Wyatt," she snarled in a low voice. "Do you hear me? You stay away from him!"

Lucifer caught her wrists in his own hands and carefully detached her fingers from his shirt. "I have no intention of doing anything to Wyatt," he said simply. "I am merely telling you about the terms of the deal. If anything happens to him, it will be because of your actions. It is your choice, Charmed One. Not mine."

He was gloating. That much was obvious, but he was doing it in such a way that it was nearly impossible to call him out on it. His tone was gentle, his words nothing but the honest truth, and there was a hint of compassion and pity in his eyes.

"I gave Christopher what he wanted," Lucifer said softly. "I gave him the answers he sought. That is all."

Piper turned away from him, trying to control her fury. She couldn't let it consume her, couldn't let it cloud her judgment or her thoughts.

And yet… her heart and her mind _hurt_.

"You took his soul," Paige said hotly. "You stole it…"

"I didn't steal anything," Lucifer replied calmly. "He traded it to me, and he knew full well what he was doing when he did it."

Piper shook her head slowly. How could Chris have done something like this? How could he have felt so desperate that he would willingly sacrifice his soul?

How bad was the future?

How much was he willing to give up for his brother?

And how could he have felt so helpless, so alone, so unwanted in the Manor that he would turn to Lucifer for assistance? How could Piper have allowed him to feel that way? How could she have not seen that he was family, that he was her son? How could she have pushed him away so much, so hard? How could she have driven him to the devil?

"That's not… that's not right…"

It was Leo's weary, tired voice that cut into the stillness of the room and into Piper's tormented thoughts. His haunted blue eyes were fixed on Lucifer, and his skin was devoid of all color. It was clear that he was hurting just as much as Piper was, that his own guilt and horror were overwhelming him, but Piper couldn't bring herself to care. He didn't matter. None of them mattered.

The only thing that mattered was finding Chris. Saving Chris.

They could deal with everything else afterwards.

"We're going to fix this," Phoebe said gently, glancing at Leo. She was rubbing at her forehead, an obvious sign of an empathy-induced headache. The tension and emotional turmoil in the room was far too strong to be blocked by the potion they had all taken months ago.

Piper nodded at Phoebe's words. "We are," she agreed, though she knew her voice lacked the confidence that she desperately wanted.

Lucifer gave Piper a long look, then said, "It's over, Charmed One. Give up."

Piper looked at him, her self-recriminations and grief giving way to stubborn resolve. "I can't give up," she said simply, her quiet tone underlined with steel, "I don't know how."

* * *

><p>Phoebe stared thoughtfully at her mug of coffee and listened to the sounds of Piper pacing on the floor above her. It had been two days since Lucifer's appearance and revelations, and the eldest Charmed One had spent every waking second looking for an answer. She'd consulted the Book and a few of their friends in the magical world, but no one had been able to offer any answers. She had tried writing spells, but they never worked. And still she refused to give up.<p>

Leo had been the same way, though his actions had been a bit more dangerous. He'd gone to the Underworld several times, meeting with demons. They'd almost all uniformly refused to talk to him even after he'd used his Elder powers to violently… encourage… them to share any information they might have.

That was troubling. The vast majority of demons had survival instincts that vast outweighed their loyalty to authority figures. When faced by certain death at the hands of an Elder, they _should_ have capitulated. The fact that they didn't meant that they were either more loyal to or more afraid of Lucifer than they had been of even the Source.

Phoebe sighed and took a sip from her cup.

Paige entered the kitchen, freshly showered and toweling water from her damp hair. She paused at the expression on Phoebe's face and raised an eyebrow.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Phoebe shrugged. "I'm just… worried," she said vaguely, waving a hand.

Paige rolled her eyes. "Ah, well. That clears it up." She walked over to the table and pulled out the chair opposite Phoebe, then sat down. "About Chris, Piper, or Leo?"

"All of them," Phoebe answered. "Piper's driving herself mad…"

"Can you blame her?" Paige asked sharply.

"Of course not," Phoebe replied, quickly defending herself against the implied accusation. "And I want to help her, I do. I would do anything I could to save Chris. I just… I'm worried about Piper. I'm worried about how far she'll go. We're already losing Leo…"

"What do you mean?" Paige demanded.

Phoebe blinked, then asked skeptically, "You really don't see it?"

Paige hesitated, then said a bit too firmly, as though she was trying to convince herself, "He's on edge. Lucifer has his son's soul, you can hardly blame him for being tense."

Phoebe exhaled slowly. "He comes back from the Underworld and I don't even recognize him."

"It's been two days, Phoebe. He hasn't changed _that_ much."

Phoebe chewed her lip worriedly, wondering how to explain what she meant, then said, "Leo never took the empathy-blocking potion." At Paige's bewildered look, she elaborated, "The one that Chr-Chris got for us. You and Piper drank it, but he didn't."

If Paige noticed the way Phoebe's voice broke over Chris' name, she didn't comment on it. Instead, she asked, "So you can sense him still? So what?"

"I could always sense him when he was here. It wasn't a problem, though. I mean, first of all, he really wasn't around much. But even when he was around, he was always so… calm. Even when he was worried, even when he was upset, even when he was furious… there was this feeling of calm that sort of… blanketed his emotions. I figured it had something to do with the fact that he was a white-lighter turned Elder and they probably meditate all the time."

Paige cracked a slight smile at that.

"The only time I really felt anything big from him was when he first got back from Valhalla and attacked Chris," and this time she managed to say Chris' name without stumbling over the word, "or once or twice when Wyatt was in danger. And when Lucifer told us that Gideon was the one to turn Wyatt. Those were the only times his emotions felt… _real_."

"So he's really good at staying calm," Paige said with a shrug. "That's not actually a surprise, all things considered."

"But now…" Phoebe paused, frowning as she tried to choose her words carefully, "when he comes back from the Underworld, his feelings aren't like that anymore. The couple times I've been in the same room as him… there is no calm. There's just desperation and anger. So _much_ anger. At Lucifer, at Gideon… at himself. He doesn't _feel_ like Leo anymore."

She closed her eyes and thought about the last time she had seen her ex-brother-in-law. He'd orbed into the attic to look at the Book quickly, and the wave of emotions radiating from him had nearly taken her breath away. She'd tried to talk to him then, just to ask him how he was feeling and if he needed any help, but he'd ignored her, gotten the information he needed, and orbed out.

He wasn't acting like Leo.

But maybe, she mused, he hadn't been acting like Leo for a while. Maybe the change had started before Lucifer's reappearance. Maybe it had begun weeks ago, with Gideon's betrayal. Maybe Leo had started drifting away from himself then, and Lucifer's revelations didn't so much change him as they made him finally snap.

It was a worrisome thought.

"It will all work out," Paige said finally.

"But what if it doesn't?" Phoebe asked pointedly. "We keep acting like there is a way to fix everything…"

"There _is_!" Paige interrupted immediately. "Just because things are difficult right now…"

"What happens if we get Chris back and lose Piper or Leo in the process? What if one of them gets killed or worse…? Leo's dangerously close to losing it," Phoebe argued. She didn't say it, didn't even mention the possibility that they would get Chris back and end up losing _Wyatt_, but she knew that she and Paige were both thinking of it.

She didn't trust Lucifer, and she was well aware of the fact that he had been undoubtedly playing them from the very beginning. But some part of her still wondered… Lucifer couldn't lie, and he'd told them multiple times that Chris had made this deal willingly.

Did he even want to be saved? If the cost was one of his parents, or Wyatt…?

Would he thank them for interfering then?

Paige must have followed at least some of Phoebe's train of thought because she sighed heavily and said, "I know it's hard right now. And… I am worried. I just don't know what else we can do. We can't give up on Chris."

Phoebe accepted that with a nod of agreement. "True. I'd just like us not to give up on Piper or Leo, either."

* * *

><p>"Leo, you need to listen to reason."<p>

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "Get out of my way, Zola."

"What you are doing is dangerous. I only want to help," Zola said patiently, lifting his hands. To the casual observer, it might have been a placating motion, but Leo knew better. Zola wasn't just trying to mollify him, he was also preparing himself for the possibility that this confrontation would turn ugly.

He'd lifted his hands so that he would be better prepared to strike out at Leo should he feel the need to do so.

"If you want to help me," Leo said angrily, "you will tell me how to save my son."

He'd gone to the Elders almost immediately after Lucifer had departed from their attic two days earlier, begging them for help. He had still been unable to access Up There due to their ridiculous suspicions that he would turn against them all, but he had managed to get their attention and summon a few of them down to the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge.

It had taken hours, though, for any of them to show up, and when they had, they'd uniformly refused to help. It was too dangerous, they had said, to get involved in anything Lucifer did. Chris had made the deal, they had explained, and so he had to pay the consequences of it.

For all their talk of referring to witches and nonmagical innocents and their sons and daughter, the Elders had absolutely no idea what it meant to be a parent.

Zola sighed. "The other Elders are worried, Leo, and I cannot help but agree with their concerns. You are meddling in matters that you do not fully understand. You have spent a significant amount of time in the Underworld…"

"It seemed a good place to find demons," Leo snapped, "and they are the only ones who can help me."

"Help you?" Zola countered. "Do you really think they are helping you? Look at yourself, Leo. Look at what you have become. You are no longer behaving like an Elder…"

"I stopped thinking of myself as an Elder the moment Gideon turned on my family," Leo snarled. "And can you blame me? One of you tries to murder my son, you nearly accuse me of treason when I defend my family against him, you ban me from the Heavens, and now you can't be bothered to list a finger to save my other son. Why would I _want_ to be one of you?"

Zola didn't answer the question. Instead, he said, "Sigmund is agitating against you."

Leo curled his lips into a bitter smirk. "Gideon's assistant doesn't like me? What a surprise," he said mockingly. He turned away from Zola, running a hand through his hair. Chris had said nothing about Sigmund, and neither had Lucifer, so that at least meant that the Elder was not a threat to Wyatt. But had he known of Gideon's plans? Had he supported them?

Leo didn't trust Sigmund, and he doubted he ever would. The man was far too much of a coward to physically attack the Charmed Ones or Wyatt, but even cowards could cause trouble easily enough. A few whispered words into the right ear, a vague accusation that could never be traced back to the source… Demons did it well enough, and even Lucifer had employed those tactics before. So it wasn't really a surprise that an Elder would do it as well.

Sigmund was certainly going out of his way to get the other Elders to turn on Leo.

And despite all this, he'd had the gall to ask the Charmed Ones for help with the Headless Horseman incident.

And despite all this, the Charmed Ones _had_ helped him, even if it was done rather reluctantly on Piper's part.

With that thought in mind, Leo said, "You still come to the Charmed Ones for help. Even Sigmund did, when things got out of hand at Magic School. You trust them."

"You are not a Charmed One, Leo," Zola replied, "and you are not their white-lighter."

"They don't have a white-lighter because the one _you_ all assigned to them was forced to sacrifice his own soul to stop a threat that originated from one of _you_!" Leo practically shouted.

Zola took a step back, his body still tensed, ready for a fight. There was a wariness in his eyes, and Leo realized with a start that even Zola – one of the few Elders he thought was still at least a little bit on his side – was terrified of him.

He knew he looked disheveled and exhausted. He had spent a lot of time resting or taking care of himself in the past two days. His eyes were rimmed with red and there was dirt and grime from the Underworld on his shoes and the bottom hem of his pants.

He was falling apart… and the Elders were worried he was going to crack.

He considered that for a moment, then shrugged it off. The only thing that mattered to him was finding a way to save Chris.

"You must stop this," Zola said softly, his voice filled with warning. "You must stop yourself, or the other Elders will stop you. If you cannot show that you are not a threat to all of us… and to this world… we will have no choice but to recycle you. And we both don't want that to happen. You're better than this, Leo."

"Stop me?" Leo asked icily. "From what?"

"From this obsession."

"Chris is my _son_! Wanting to save him is not an obsession, Zola. It's called being a father."

"It is an obsession, Leo," Zola argued, "and it is blinding you to reason, driving you over the edge. You are reacting to pain and grief and betrayal, but getting involved with Lucifer will not protect your family. And it will not heal your heart."

"I don't care about my heart," Leo replied stubbornly. "I only want to save my son."

"Leo, listen to me. The Elders are questioning what side you are really on and you cannot afford…"

"I don't care!" Leo spat. "Do you understand, Zola? I _don't_ care."

"There is a great power coming," Zola protested. "One unlike anything we have seen in a very long time. We need you for the coming battles, Leo. But, more than that, we need to know that every Elder is on our side. We need to present a united front against this foe, and as long as you remain separated from us, you put yourself and all of us in danger."

"I don't care," Leo repeated through clenched teeth.

"If we recycle you, you will lose far more than Christopher," Zola murmured. "You will lose your memories, your sense of self… everything that makes you the person you are now will be erased. And that includes your love for your sons and your memories of the Halliwell sisters. Will you really sacrifice all that for nothing?"

"_Chris isn't nothing!"_

"Lucifer is manipulating you. He's preying on your grief and pain," Zola said. "Think, Leo. Think rationally for a moment. This is what Lucifer does. This is what he _excels_ at. Turning people. Making them act against their morals and their better judgment. Making them turn against their family."

"You are not family," Leo retorted. "None of the Elders are my family."

"He knows that you are looking for him and he isn't bothering to stop you. He wants you to do this, Leo. He wants you to lose yourself in this obsession, to become something you were never supposed to be. Don't make this easy for him. Don't give into him. Don't let him win."

"I am going to get my son back…"

"There is no way to undo a deal once it has been made," Zola murmured. "Not without Lucifer's permission. Please don't do this, Leo. Don't walk down this path."

"I'm already on the path," Leo muttered grimly.

"There is still time to turn aside," Zola pleaded.

Leo stared at him for a long moment, then said flatly, "But I don't want to turn aside. I'm going to see this through to the end. I am going to get my son back, no matter what it takes."

And he orbed away.

Zola had been right about one thing; the only way to undo a deal was with Lucifer's permission. Everything else had reached a dead end, and even the demons were choosing to be vanquished rather than help.

Leo reappeared in the back room of P3. Over the intervening weeks since Chris' sacrifice, all mementos of his time here had been removed. The notebooks he had filled with lists of demons to be vanquished had been tossed out, the few spare changes of clothing he'd kept had been washed and folded and stored in the attic of the Manor for no real reason other than Piper felt bag getting rid of them, and the entire room had been cleaned.

But even if the room no longer felt like Chris' makeshift home, it had once served as his bedroom and office, and it was the only place Leo could go to feel close to his son.

He looked around once, reminding himself of all the accusations he had thrown at Chris, all the sharp words and angry glares. Even if they had been justified in the beginning – Chris had sent him to Valhalla, after all – his suspicions had continued far longer than they should have, and he regretted them all now.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. Then he raised his voice and shouted, "You're watching this, aren't you? Just like you've been watching us for weeks. Laughing at us, mocking us. Manipulating us."

"You know," a voice said casually, "that other Elder was correct. This path you are on will not give you the outcome you want. I have no intention of allowing you to merely take back young Christopher's soul."

Leo turned around slowly. "Lucifer," he said, eyeing the devil warily.

"I have been watching you," Lucifer said. He walked over to the lumpy sofa and sat down. "I must admit… I find your pain rather… exquisite. I imagined some of the grief and guilt, of course, but I had no idea just how much of it you would all have."

"I've been looking for you," Leo said.

"I know. A waste of time." Lucifer took off the sunglasses he was wearing and gazed at them thoughtfully. "You should give up. It will be easier for you if you stop now. The longer you continue this, the longer you allow yourself to become… corrupted… the harder it will be for you to find your way back."

"I'm not going back without Chris," Leo said.

Lucifer glanced up at him with an amused smile, then rose to his feet to face Leo squarely. "Then you aren't going back at all. Christopher is _mine_."

Leo didn't think. He merely charged forward and drew his right arm back, his hand curling into a fist. Without hesitation, he brought his fist flying forward and slammed it into Lucifer's jaw. The devil's head snapped back and the force of the blow knocked him into the sofa again. He collapsed into a sitting position there, with Leo looming over him and shaking with barely contained rage.

The devil lifted sparkling blue eyes towards the Elder. "Ow," he deadpanned, reaching up to touch his jaw gingerly with two fingers.

"Chris is not yours," Leo snapped.

"But he is," Lucifer said calmly, not intimidated by Leo in the slightest. "You cannot steal him from me."

"How about a new deal, then?" Leo said, folding his arms across his chest and refusing to back down. "Set Chris' soul free and you can have mine."


	10. In The Aftermath of Hell

Chapter Eight: In the Aftermath of Hell

She felt his absence immediately. It was a feeling that existed on an instinctual level, one that she couldn't put into words. It hit her hard, taking her breath away and leaving her dizzy and scared. It shouldn't have been possible – they were no longer married and any connection that had existed was all but gone now, replaced by his becoming an Elder – but she still felt that tenuous connection shatter and then fade.

Standing in the attic, gasping for breath as tears burned in her eyes, Piper clutched at the Book's podium to keep herself upright and tried her best to rationalize away the grief and fear forming a hard ball in the pit of her stomach.

Leo was gone.

* * *

><p>The world came back into focus slowly. The first sense he regained was that of touch. He could feel the cold, hard ground beneath him, could feel the way he was sprawled at awkward angles along the cavern floor. Next came smell – mold and mildew – followed by hearing – footsteps treading softly on the ground. Taste came almost immediately after sound; the bitter metallic of blood in his mouth indicating that he must have bitten his tongue.<p>

He opened his eyes, and the world exploded in light and color. He slammed his lids shut almost immediately, forcing out the brightness.

"Careful," a voice whispered in his ear, and he felt the warmth of breath exhaling onto the side of his face. "Give your body some time to adjust."

He tried to reach up with one hand, tried to grab at the thing that was talking to him. But his limbs felt leaden, too heavy to be moved.

He groaned.

Everything hurt. It was an ache that was far more than just physical. It seeped through his flesh and blood and bones and into his heart, into his soul. It weighed down on him, crushing in its intensity. It him filled with a helplessness, a hopelessness, even as he struggled against it.

"Gently, Christopher," the voice said again, a slight chiding in its tone. "Don't strain yourself."

He knew instinctively that the voice belonged to someone he could not trust, but despite that, he also knew it was giving very good advice. He couldn't move his body. He could wiggle his fingers just a little bit, but anything beyond that was too much for him, and every effort he made was met with failure and even more weariness.

He focused instead on breathing. That hurt as well, but was at least a doable task.

With his eyes closed, his other senses were overcompensating. The smell of mildew invaded his nostrils, and every movement made by the mysterious stranger watching over him echoed loudly in his ears. He felt something, like a ripple of power in the air. It washed over him, tingling against his skin, and then the scent of mildew was intermingled with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon. A voice – feminine and alluring – asked, "Is he awake?"

"Almost," replied the first voice.

The feminine voice, combined with the smell of that particular perfume, meant something to him if only he could figure out what it was. But it hovered around the edges of his consciousness, never coming quite close enough for him to grasp it. He reached out with his mind, searching desperately for answers, but slammed up against nothingness and pain.

It hurt to think.

He tried opening his eyes again. He squinted, and the bright light assailed him, scorching. It hurt, but the pain and the brightness seemed more bearable now than it had been before.

There was something fuzzy above him. An indistinct shadow surrounded by a blaze of brilliant white light.

"He's seeing you," the feminine voice said again, and light footsteps on the ground indicated that the voice was coming closer, drifting towards him. "You as you really are. Not… not the face you show the world, but the light behind it. That is why it hurts him to open his eyes."

He closed his eyes against the light and tried instead to focus on the words. He pushed past the sharp pain in his head, pushed past the agony that was threatening to overwhelm him, to pull him back into oblivion. What did those words mean? The answers were there, clearly. He just needed to _think_. Where was he, and who were these people standing over him, speaking as though they knew all about him?

That voice. It was captivating and appealing and so _familiar_.

And dangerous.

The name came to him, a single word floating in the blankness of his mind. It didn't mean much, didn't clarify the situation, but at least he knew something now. At least he knew her name.

Lola.

He whispered it aloud, and amused laughter rang in his ears.

"You remember me, white-lighter," the feminine voice said. "And after several weeks of belonging to the devil… I am flattered."

Everything hit him suddenly, slamming into his chest and taking away all breath. Memories exploded behind his closed eyes. The bright white light that had burned his eyes made sense now, in an odd and worrisome way.

"Lucifer," he muttered, "light-bringing. Morning star."

He opened his eyes and willed himself _not_ to see the light that surrounded the devil. He looked past it, or maybe through it, ignoring the truth of the devil and focusing instead on the face the fallen angel wore. The light dimmed until it no longer blinded him, and he was able to see the cave around him, the red-haired sorceress standing a few feet away with an amused expression on her face, and the blue-eyed devil crouched at his side, smiling.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Christopher."

* * *

><p>"What do you mean? How is Leo <em>gone<em>?" Paige demanded, pacing restlessly back and forth across the floor of the sunroom. Phoebe was perched on the edge of the white wicker chair, rubbing at her temples. Piper was sitting on the loveseat, her expression dark and worried.

Light streamed in through the glass in the French windows, illuminating the scene of tension and fear.

"He's gone," Piper repeated. "He just…I felt it. I felt him. He was there and then… then he _wasn't_."

She couldn't explain it any better than that. She had no idea why the connection was still so strong, given that she and Leo were no longer together. She had no idea why there had been a connection in the first place. She didn't have white-lighter powers the way Leo, Paige, Wyatt, and even Chris did. She couldn't sense people.

But Leo wasn't people. He was _Leo_.

"Do you think… the Elders…?" Paige suggested apprehensively, pausing in her pacing long enough to give Piper a searching look.

Piper's expression darkened further, worry replaced with anger. Leo had not been in the good graces of the insufferably hypocritical Elders since he had killed Gideon, and his continual pursuit of the devil these past few days had only made things worse. Would the Elders have retaliated? Would they have finally made good on their threat to eliminate Leo?

Could they have recycled him?

"I don't know," Piper said, her teeth clenched tightly. "But it wouldn't surprise me if they did. After Gideon… nothing they do could surprise me."

"How do we find out?" Paige asked.

Phoebe glanced uneasily between Piper and Paige, then met Piper's wrathful look and said, "We could always ask them."

* * *

><p>"How am I… why am I… what did you <em>do<em>?" Chris stammered, pulling away from the devil. He tried to surge to his feet, adrenaline rushing through his body, but only made it about halfway before his strength gave out and he fell to his hands and knees. His head was pounding, a dull ache that grew more and more intense with every passing second.

Lucifer smiled.

It was a very chilling smile.

"I released your soul and replaced it in your body," he answered matter-of-factly.

He was still crouched down in front of Chris, and his blue eyes were focused intently on the young Halliwell. The smile faltered for a moment as a frown creased his brow, but then his expression smoothed over once more. He rose to his feet and folded his arms over his chest, the smug smile slipping back into place.

Chris closed his eyes and fought back a wave of nausea. There was a sensation in his chest - something cold and tight. His mind felt fuzzy. He was sure that what Lucifer had said was fairly straightforward, but he simply couldn't make sense of it. He was wobbling, shaking on his hands and knees, and try as he might, he couldn't seem to steady himself.

It was as though the ground was moving beneath him, though he was fairly certain that was not the case.

"Easy," Lola murmured, coming to his side. She wrapped her fingers softly around his shoulder and eased him into a more comfortable sitting position. "Your body is still adjusting. Try not to make any sudden movements."

A few strands of Lola's hair fell across his cheek, tickling his skin, and Chris inhaled the scent of vanilla. Her free hand was now rubbing soothing circles on his back and his traitorous body leaned towards her even as his mind pushed through its hazy stupor and screamed at him that she couldn't be trusted.

"Just rest," Lola continued softly, her honeyed words slipping past his defenses. "You've earned a break. You've earned a chance to take it easy."

And he _had_ earned it. He'd given everything – his fiancée, his life, his very soul – to save the world. He'd given away the last things left that mattered to him in the almost impossible hope that the future could be changed. He had nothing left to give, and it would have been so easy to drift off into slumber and let someone else deal with the consequences of whatever had just happened.

Because there would be consequences. There was no way that Lucifer had released his soul without gaining something in return. There had to be a catch, had to be a price.

There always was.

He forced his eyes open and pushed himself away from Lola. She held his arm for a moment, and he caught a glimpse of bemusement sparkling in her eyes before she pursed cherry-red lips together and let him go.

He turned to Lucifer and met the devil's blue eyes.

"Wyatt?"

Lucifer raised his eyebrows, then said, "I did not undo the deal we made, Christopher. Gideon has been eliminated."

"And yet I am here," Chris said quietly, looking around. For the first time, he truly took stock of his surroundings. The cave was damp and dark and so very unlike all the other places he had met with either Lola or Lucifer. This cave was a more traditional haunt in the Underworld, and it was exactly the sort of place that the magical community imagined when they thought of the demonic world.

The air was cold. He could feel the cold against his skin, cold feel it creeping _underneath_ his skin.

He was alive and his soul was his again.

So how could Wyatt be safe?

Or was this all some ruse? Was Wyatt still in danger from some other source, someone besides the wayward Elder? Was _Lucifer_ going after the Twice Blessed now?

His chest constricted painfully at that thought, and his vision narrowed to two tiny pinpricks of light in a sea of vague darkness. The blood pounded in his ears and he swayed uneasily, feeling suddenly dizzy. He took a few stumbling steps backwards until he could rest his hand against the hard stone wall, but even that offered little support.

He could barely remain on his feet.

"You need to breathe," Lola whispered, and he started, surprised to find that she was standing right next to him again. He hadn't heard her move, hadn't seen her approach. But she was suddenly there, one hand resting lightly on his arm. "Breathe, Chris. Calm down. You need to _breathe_."

He couldn't trust her, but he followed her instructions anyway and focused on sucking in large amounts of much needed oxygen.

The constriction in his chest loosened slightly.

He hadn't even realized he'd been hyperventilating.

"Wyatt Halliwell is safe," Lucifer said calmly. "The other Elders will not target him. I have no plans for him. I assure you, Christopher, the boy is safe. You're panic on his behalf is premature. Though I suppose commendable, from a mortal and Good point of view."

Chris flushed darkly, embarrassed and more than a little worried. The years he had spent in the dark future, fighting friends and family and himself, had taught him the importance of one tactic above all else – _never_ show weakness to the enemy. It had helped him through many ordeals, saved his life on many occasions, and it had been so ingrained into his very psyche that he'd often had trouble showing weakness to allies as well.

And despite all that, he'd just suffered through the beginnings of a panic attack in front of Lucifer.

There was no doubt in his mind that – whatever Lucifer had done for him – the devil was still the enemy.

"There is no reason to be so embarrassed, white-lighter," Lola said with a light laugh. "You are allowed to experience some emotional struggles before feeling fully yourself again. You have spent quite a while in Lucifer's possession, after all."

Chris' mind latched onto that thought. "How long?" he asked.

"About a month," Lucifer answered.

Chris nodded and tried to organize his thoughts. The devil couldn't lie, which meant that Wyatt was safe and apparently did not play any further role in this mess. But Lucifer had kept Chris' soul for an entire month before releasing it. So why now? What had happened to convince the devil to free him?

And if Chris wasn't paying the price for Wyatt's safety, then who was?

* * *

><p>"I can assure you, Piper Halliwell, that the Elders had nothing to do with Leo's disappearance. We are just as baffled… and concerned… as you are."<p>

Piper snorted disbelievingly. The Elder who had answered her calls – Zola, she believed his name was – might act as though he cared about Leo, but she sincerely doubted that her ex-husband's disappearance bothered the Elders as much as they said it did.

Or, more accurately, it bothered them, but not because they feared for Leo. Rather, they were afraid for themselves. An attack on an Elder was a reminder of the Titans, of what they had nearly lost less than a year ago.

She pressed her lips into a thin line and surveyed Zola. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't take everything you say at face value," she said coolly.

Zola sighed and shook his head. His tone was filled with remorse and just a little bit of censure as he replied, "One bad Elder does not make us all evil. We are not the enemy, and it would be in your best interest to remember that."

Paige laughed bitterly, and her words echoed Piper's thoughts, "Gideon tried to murder an innocent child, and had no qualms about killing us, Leo, or Chris to get what he wanted. He excused his actions by saying that what he was doing was for the greater good. Why should we believe that all you other Elders aren't tainted with the same misguided beliefs? Why should we believe that you don't consider yourself above such frivolous things as right and wrong?"

Zola turned his gaze to her. "You three have had evil in your family," he answered gravely, "in both the past and, it seems, in the future. You three have even committed crimes in your own past lives. Does that make you evil now? Should we give up on you?"

Piper's hands twitched and she wanted nothing more than to blow up the sanctimonious bastard. But although she didn't like him, she also didn't think he was lying.

Which meant the Elders were not responsible for Leo's disappearance.

* * *

><p>Chris straightened his shoulders and willed away the emotional and physical exhaustion he felt. He lifted his chin in a defiant gesture and asked the devil pointedly, "You released me. What did you get in return?" His voice was still hoarse and his throat was still raw and everything still <em>hurt<em>, but he was determined to focus on this detail, to learn the truth.

Who had paid the price for his freedom?

Lucifer shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"_Of course_ it matters!" Chris snapped, adrenaline coursing through his body. But even the rush of adrenaline resulting from his own anger and fear wasn't enough to combat the weariness that was continually pressing down on him. His fingers grappled for purchase on the slippery wall as he fought to stay standing.

He would not show weakness. Not now. Not again.

"I am not going to let…"

"Let?" Lucifer interrupted, repeating the words with a soft chuckle. "You're not going to _let_?" He tilted his head to the side slightly and regarded Chris with amusement. "You have no say in this, Christopher. Like your mother before you, you seem completely unable to comprehend that some things are simply beyond your control. You do not always have a say in how things happen. Don't allow yourself to believe that your little time travel stunt makes you powerful enough to change every aspect of the future you do not like."

At the mention of his mother, Chris' heart leapt into his throat. It took him a moment to compel his voice to work, and then he asked in a tone of barely restrained fear, "Piper… did she…?"

He wasn't even sure what it was he was asking. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so afraid for her, for her safety, for her life. Surely she hadn't done anything that would put her in danger… right?

"Piper did nothing," Lucifer replied. "She tried, of course." His gaze swept over Chris one last time before he turned away from the young Halliwell. "Mothers always try so hard to help their children. Even when they can't."

"She knows," Chris murmured. It wasn't a question, and neither Lucifer nor Lola answered. Chris closed his eyes, unsure how to feel about this bit of information. The plan had always revolved around the Charmed Ones not finding out who he really was. It had been such an integral part of his strategy, in fact, that he and Bianca had never really discussed what he should do if he failed to keep his secret.

The stakes had been so high, and he'd been so determined not to fail.

And now Piper knew the truth.

He wondered vaguely how she had figured it out. What clues had she seen, what pieces of the puzzle had she fit together? Had Lucifer helped her along, leading her to this revelation, or had it been something she'd figured out all on her own?

And how had she reacted when she learned of his identity?

"But no matter how much she tried," Lucifer continued quietly, "she was not able to succeed. It has been such a… _trying_… time for her."

Chris ran a hand through his hair and lowered his gaze. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to make this better for her. Didn't know if he cared enough to make this better for her. This version of Piper was not his mother and he couldn't relate to her. He didn't know her, didn't understand her, and even in those moments when the lines blurred and she reminded him so much of Mom… it still wasn't the same.

She still wasn't Mom.

Except, of course, that she was. Or would be.

It was all so complicated and thinking about it just made his head hurt. The tumult of emotions that bombarded him at the very thought of Piper learning the truth left him breathless. But he couldn't afford to let his emotions show. He couldn't afford that weakness.

Not again.

Still… Lola had been right; he had earned a break. And it would have been all so easy to just let go, let someone else deal with the problem.

It would have been so easy to just stop, relax, take a break. He had saved the future, after all. He protected everyone from the horrors that would be inflicted upon them in a world ruled by demons and an amoral Wyatt. He had done his part, finished his mission. Why did he have to keep fighting?

Why did this have to be his problem?

But, of course, the answer to that was obvious.

He was a Halliwell.

It was _always_ his problem.

"I think," Lucifer said after a moment of silence, "that it is time for me to leave. I've completed my task."

"Wait!" Chris demanded before Lucifer had the chance to leave. He opened his mouth, determined to ask one more time why he had been released. But though his mind knew that, logically, that question was very important, his heart was more interested in other things. The words stuck in his throat and instead he choked out a single name, "Wyatt…?"

"As I have said, I did not undo our deal, Christopher," Lucifer said, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. "You may be free now, but that does not affect the agreement we had before. Gideon is dead, the threat has been eliminated. Your mission was a success."

Then he was gone.

* * *

><p>"If the Elders aren't responsible… if they don't know anything…" Phoebe frowned, sinking onto the sofa and staring around the attic, "who has the power to make an Elder disappear?"<p>

Piper stood in front of the Book, flipping through the pages. She'd been doing that since the moment Zola had orbed away, and it had not provided any answers.

Yet.

She wasn't willing to give up.

"Lucifer?" Paige suggested warily.

"Lucifer can't kill us," Piper replied. "Remember? Leo said that the devil's active powers were limited. It's not like he has energy balls or molecular combustion…"

"Neither of those would have killed Leo anyway," Phoebe added. "A dark-lighter arrow, though…"

"No!" Piper interjected as Phoebe trailed off uneasily. She shook her head once, a sharp movement that made the muscles in her neck strain. "No," she said again, more quietly. Leo wasn't dead. She refused to believe that, to believe that he was gone.

She looked away from both of her sisters. There was a sharp, stabbing pain in her chest every time she even considered the idea that anything could have happened to Leo.

Damn it, they were _separated_, she wasn't supposed to care about him this much!

"Okay," Phoebe said gently, her tone almost apologetic, "but you said that Leo is gone. So if he's not… if he's not dead… then what… happened? Why is he gone?"

Piper pursed her lips and didn't answer. She didn't have an answer. She wanted desperately to be able to explain this feeling, this giant hole in her heart. She wanted to have an answer that was logical and rational and didn't hurt this much.

But she didn't have any of that. She just had a feeling of emptiness, of incompleteness. As though a large part of her was quite suddenly simply missing.

* * *

><p>"You know, I like this version of you quite a bit better," Lola remarked casually, sidling up to Chris and trailing her fingers over his chest. "You were <em>so<em> intolerant of everything before. So single-mindedly focused on your mission. Now… now you are showing emotions other than irritation and impatience. That hint of vulnerability… it makes you so much more… _human_."

Chris turned towards her. "What do you know about being human?" he demanded.

She laughed. "I know it hurts."

He couldn't deny that. The pain that had assailed him upon first waking had faded during the conversation as he managed to focus all his attention on Lucifer and the mystery now before him. But that conversation was over, and the feelings were back. They were slamming down on him, smothering him, invading and overwhelming every part of his body until he could think of nothing but how much he wanted this all to just _end_.

Lola traced her fingers in a circle over his heart. "And you wonder why demons have no desire to be human," she murmured lightly.

The scent of vanilla and cinnamon lingered in the air.

He swatted her hand away. Lola was an enemy, too. And he had no intention of forgetting that.

"If Lucifer won't tell me why I was released," he said expectantly, "maybe you can shed some light on the matter."

Lola sighed and shook her head in disappointment. "And now you're back to business," she said. "Such a pity." She stepped back from him. "And no, white-lighter, I don't think I can shed any light on this matter. But perhaps it would be best for you to listen to Lucifer. Just let it go."

"I can't," he said flatly.

Lola turned her back on him and walked towards the center of the cave. "It won't help, you know," she murmured.

"What won't help?"

"Jumping into a new mission, a new mystery," Lola replied, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Those emotions bubbling inside of you, that pain that keeps lingering, the dull ache in your head and your chest that is only partially physical… it won't go away. You can focus all you want on everything else, but you can't outrun this."

Chris narrowed his eyes. "I was just returned to my body after a month in… somewhere else. I need time to adjust, and then I will be fine."

Lola's lips curled into a smirk as her gaze wandered over the cave and finally settled on Chris once more. "You don't remember where you were, do you? You don't remember anything about the past month."

Chris didn't answer. He had a strong suspicion that there was no reason to answer the question; Lola likely knew quite a bit more about this than he did. But he had sold his soul to the devil, and though he knew that no one had ever been able to confirm exactly what happens to a soul after Lucifer claims it, he could only assume he had been in hell.

"All those mental barriers, all those walls you had in place for years… they're not going to help you now," Lola continued. "Which, I am sure, will amuse Lucifer greatly."

"Why?" Chris snapped, trying to sound like his old self, trying to seem in control.

Lola laughed outright at his tone. He glowered, and that only caused her to laugh even more.

"Because there is only one place you can go for answers," she said finally.

And Chris cringed inwardly.

The Manor.

His family.

How could he confront them after everything that had happened? How could he see them, talk to them, interact with them if he was unable to remain aloof? How could he face Piper without the ability to separate her from Mom? How could he handle this when the walls in his mind had crumbled to pieces and the emotions just wouldn't stay back?

"That's why he wouldn't tell me anything," Chris whispered, his mouth dry.

It was a rhetorical question, but Lola answered anyway. "Yes," she said simply. Then she frowned and added, "Well, that and the fact that he is Lucifer, and he never reveals information without getting something in return."

Chris accepted that in silence, then asked, "Why don't I remember this past month?"

Lola studied him for a long moment, then said, "Because it is irrelevant. Where you are now, and what you feel now, is far more important."

"I don't understand."

"You are not the first soul Lucifer has released. It might not be a common thing for him to do, but it does happen. Souls come back… but when they return, they are generally somewhat _less_ than whole. Their defenses are gone, destroyed by their stay in… well, let's call it hell for the lack of a better term."

"So it isn't hell?" Chris asked, puzzled.

Lola shrugged. "Again, what it is or is not is immaterial. You are no longer there. Now you are here. But everything you once were has been stripped away. You've been left exposed. Vulnerable. Raw. Everything will be just a little bit harder, a little bit sharper, and all those pesky human emotions will be little bit more vivid... and you will think that you are handling it, you will think that you are fighting it, but it will be tearing you apart." She smiled chillingly. "Welcome to the aftermath of hell."

And then she shimmered away.

Chris sank to his knees, weary and drained. He only understood half of what Lola had just said, but though he knew it was important, he couldn't focus on it long enough to make sense of any of her words.

_God_, he just wanted this to be over.

But it wasn't. Someone had paid the price for his freedom, and he had to find out who.

He drew a shaky breath, focused on the Manor, and orbed.


	11. Devil May Care

AN: Sorry for the delay on this one, I was out of town for a couple weeks... The next chapters should hopefully come quicker.

Chapter Nine: Devil May Care

"There is nothing here! Why isn't there anything here?" Piper growled, slamming the Book shut and running a hand through her hair in frustration. It bothered her to no end that the tome that she had always relied on for answers – and vanquishing potions or spells – had nothing to offer her now. If the Book couldn't help her, if the Elders didn't know what was going on…

How was she ever going to find Leo?

It wasn't supposed to hurt this much. They were separated, after all, and she had somehow tricked herself into believing that her happiness with Greg meant that she was getting over Leo. But she wasn't. She very clearly wasn't.

She had already lost Chris. She didn't know how to save him, didn't know how to get Lucifer to undo the deal, and though she had no intention of ever giving up on her son, she couldn't help but feel powerless in this situation. The anger and agony was eating her up inside, and the helplessness was leaving her even more short-tempered than usual.

And now Leo…

How much more loss could she take?

The first time she had learned that Leo was missing, back when he had been left on Valhalla, she'd felt nothing. His spell had prevented her from worrying over him, and any fear or anxiety that should have been there was subverted beneath a magical façade of calm. She had been convinced that Leo would be fine, that his being an Elder meant he was more than capable of taking care of himself.

And when the emotions came back, when the pain and fear and heartache took her breath away and left her feeling so unbearably empty inside, she had been too furious at Leo to truly understand why he had tampered with her emotions. At the time she have believed that she would rather the pain of his loss than the nothingness of his version of _help_.

Now, though… now she almost wished for that magical relief. Now she almost wished for anything to make the ache inside her disappear.

"Piper, sweetie… calm down," Phoebe murmured, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her away from the Book. "Why don't you take a break. Paige and I can keep looking."

"I don't need a break," Piper snapped. "I need _answers_." She shoved herself roughly out of Phoebe's grasp and reached for the Book again.

Phoebe opened her mouth to reply, but then stopped as the room was suddenly illuminated in blue and white orbs. Piper turned, hope filling her at the possibility that Leo could appear.

It wasn't Leo.

It was Chris.

Piper's mouth fell open and for a moment, all she could do was stare blankly at her son. Her hands still rested on the cover of the Book, not quite willing to pull away from the only thing that might offer her the assistance needed to find Leo. But Chris was looking at her, and another part of her wanted to run to him, wanted to wrap him in a tight embrace and never let him go.

Yet another part of her wanted to run from the room entirely, and not face any of it. She wasn't a coward, but even the bravest woman would cower before the horrifying truth that she had let her baby be taken by the devil.

"Chris," Paige said, the first to find her voice. It was thick with emotion as she managed to stammer, "What are you… how did you…? Are you _back_?"

Piper watched as Chris' gaze moved towards Paige. The expression in his green eyes was more open than it had ever been, and she saw the pain and the uncertainty that played across his features as he looked at the youngest Charmed One.

There was anger there, too.

"What did you _do_?" he asked hoarsely.

"What are you talking about?" Paige demanded, worry giving her voice an unintended edge.

Chris flinched and his eyes darted away. "You did something," he said stubbornly, now refusing to look at any of them. "Lucifer wouldn't have just let me go. You must have done _something_." The rawness of his voice surprised Piper, as did the vividness of the emotions in his eyes. Where was his mask? Where was his façade? Where was the calm indifference that she had grown so accustomed to?

What had Lucifer done to him to make him break like this?

"We didn't," Paige breathed. "We didn't do anything."

Piper stiffened and Paige's words, even though they were the truth. They hadn't done anything to bring back Chris – but they had certainly tried. Yet Paige's words did not encompass that, did not tell of the countless hours she had spent in front of the Book, of the pleas and prayers she had sent towards the Heavens, of her desperate attempts to get him back.

She had tried – they had all tried. But Paige told only the ending – they had failed.

It sounded like an accusation.

Chris was looking at Paige in obvious disbelief.

She let go of the Book and took a faltering step towards her son. "We tried, Chris," she said. "We did… really. But we can't… we couldn't… I don't understand this any more than you do, sweetie…"

His eyes widened and then he pulled away from her. "Don't," he said harshly. "Just… God, just _don't_." He turned and ran a hand through his hair. "You did something," he said again, mulishly. "You had to have done something. And you can't… you can't just interfere. I _told_ you to just… to just leave it alone. God, Piper, how could you do this to me? To us? To the _future_?"

Piper's heart skipped a beat. "Are you saying… is Wyatt still… not saved?"

She couldn't say the word evil.

Chris spun to face her, his mouth opening angrily, but then he faltered and shook his head. "No. No, he's fine. Lucifer said…" He trailed off and shook his head again. He seemed suddenly so confused, so lost.

"Then the future isn't in any danger," Phoebe offered, clearing her throat and speaking up tentatively for the first time since Chris' abrupt appearance.

Chris glared at her.

"Chris, sweetie," Piper said gently, "why don't you sit down? We can talk about this… about whatever happened, but you need to rest. You looked exhausted."

"I don't have time to rest," he spat at her, and there was a strange sort of desperation clinging to his voice. "I didn't come here to rest. Tell me what you did!"

"We didn't do anything!" Paige snapped back before Piper had a chance to reply.

Piper frowned as she studied Chris. He wasn't responding to her use of the word sweetie, and she could only assume that meant that he either didn't notice, or he already knew that they had learned the truth. It appeared as though he had spoken to Lucifer recently – his comment about Wyatt still being safe was proof of that. Had Lucifer told him what had happened?

What horrible truths had Lucifer spilled?

"Please, Chris, come sit down," Piper tried again, reaching out to catch his arm.

He started at her touch and stared down at her hand for a brief moment before lifting haunted eyes to her face. "There isn't time to _sit down_," he said, his tone calm and firm. For a moment, the mask slammed into place and she felt as though she was staring once again at the Chris Perry they had known for months. He was focused only on the mission and nothing else. "I need to know what happened. I need to know why Lucifer let me go. If he's done something, something to put the future at risk, I need to know about it _now_."

Piper was only partially paying attention. His arm was solid and so very real beneath her grasp. She wasn't quite ready to believe it, to truly trust that he was back. Alive and safe. But her hand was holding a real arm, and he wasn't fading away before her eyes.

This wasn't a nightmare.

She'd had plenty of those.

But this was different. He was there, standing in front of her, and she felt the relief slowly flooding through her veins.

He pulled his arm from her grasp. "Piper, are you listening to me?" he demanded angrily.

"Give her a moment, Chris," Phoebe said softly. "She's just happy that you're back."

"She shouldn't be," Chris answered automatically, shifting his gaze to the empath. "Not until we know _why_ I am back."

"You're my son," Piper said simply. "I don't care about the _why_. You are back and that is the only thing that matters to me."

"It isn't that simple and it doesn't… who I am doesn't change _anything_," Chris hissed. "God, you act like… like things are different now, but they aren't." He spun around and walked away from her, towards the Book. "We need to find out what happened. We need to find out how this happened. That is what matters. That is all that matters."

"Chris, please…" Phoebe started, but Chris cut her off brusquely.

"Maybe the Elders will know." Chris flipped open the Book. "Or maybe some of the demons in the Underworld. Although I doubt we'll get them to say anything against Lucifer…"

"Chris, can't you listen to what we're saying?" Paige had to practically shout at him to pull his attention away from the Book. "You're my nephew. Wyatt's little brother. Piper's son. Can't you acknowledge that?" She was begging, even through the current of frustration in her words, and her plea echoed everything Piper felt.

Everything Piper wanted.

"I had a mission," Chris said. His tone was flat, but it sounded forced, as though he was doing his best to keep the emotion from overwhelming him, but he wasn't quite succeeding. Piper could see the anguish still in his gaze as he continued in his almost unemotional voice, "It was more than just saving Wyatt. It was saving the future and everything there. My family… Bianca… all of the innocents killed by Wyatt's regime… If Lucifer has done something to jeopardize that, then it doesn't matter that Wyatt is safe. My mission isn't over. And that is the only thing that matters. The mission."

"No, it isn't," Piper argued. The relief she had felt just moments ago was fading. Chris' return to their lives was still a miraculous event for which she would be eternally grateful, but he wouldn't look at her, wouldn't stop long enough to talk to her about anything besides Lucifer and she needed him to take a break. Just for a moment. Just long enough to tell her…

To tell her what? That he loved her? That he forgave her for mistrusting him, for mistreating him, for letting the devil take his soul? How could he forgive her when she hadn't even apologized? How he could say that he loved her after everything she – everything they – had done? How could he think of her with anything other than loathing for the way she had treated him?

"Chris, I'm so sorry…" she whispered.

He lifted his head and once more met her gaze. She saw the unadulterated anguish in his eyes.

"_Don't_," he said, his tone hard.

"But I am," Piper pressed, now on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry for everything. If I had known the truth…"

"Don't," he said again, and this time there was a hint of hysteria in his voice. His gaze moved away from her. "You don't know anything about… about _the truth_. The _truth_ is that we have to stop Lucifer. The _truth_ is that we're going up against an unbeatable evil. The _truth_ is that if you hadn't interfered, we wouldn't have to worry about any of this in the first place!"

"We didn't do anything!"

"Well, someone did," Chris replied.

"Leo," Phoebe said softly.

Piper tore her attention away from Chris and looked at Phoebe instead. "What?"

"Leo did this. He must have traded his soul for Chris'. It would explain why he suddenly disappeared, why the Elders didn't know anything… It was Leo. Leo did this."

There was a moment of complete silence in the attic, then Chris asked in a small voice, "Why would Leo do that?"

The question took Piper by surprise, and she stared blankly at Chris for a long moment before saying, "Because you're his son."

Chris just stared at her, nonplussed. Then he asked, "So?"

"He loves you," Piper said, thrown by the sudden change in conversation and tone. "He would give anything for you, like you would – _did_ – for Wyatt."

It baffled her that she had to explain this to Chris, and it baffled her even more that, despite her explanation, he was still staring uncomprehendingly at her. But then he shook his head and cleared the expression from his features, his gaze moving back to the Book.

"I need to talk to Lucifer again," he said slowly, clearly talking to himself. "Or maybe Lola. I need to find out if there are any rumors in the Underworld about Lucifer's next steps… although that will be harder. What is he doing? Was this his endgame or is there more?"

"Chris, please, talk to me," Piper said, coming to stand in front of him and placing a hand on the open page of the Book, pressing down on the old parchment and preventing Chris from continuing his search for answers.

His lips curled into a sneer. "Why? So you can second guess every decision I make?"

Piper let out a long breath. "Sweetie, I am so sorry…"

"_Stop telling me that you're_ _sorry_!" Chris snarled viciously, and then, without waiting for her response, he orbed away.

* * *

><p>He knew he had behaved like a complete brat. He hadn't wanted to; through the entire conversation with Piper, a little voice in his head kept telling him to stop. To calm down. To shove those tumultuous emotions to the far recesses of his mind and behave with the civility and decency his mother had instilled in him.<p>

But he hadn't been able to. The feelings wouldn't listen to him, wouldn't obey his furious order to leave him alone. They kept plaguing him, refusing to let go, refusing to even slightly lessen their hold on him.

Chris sank onto the cold metal tower of the Golden Gate Bridge and stared out over the city. He shouldn't have gone to the Manor for answers. It had seemed like the only thing to do, and time had been of the essence. He didn't have the luxury of resting when Lucifer was still targeting his family.

But he shouldn't have gone directly to the Manor. He should have taken some time – allowed himself a few precious moments of peace and quiet – before facing the inevitable.

_Chris! Chris, please, we just want to talk to you._

Piper's voice reverberated in his head. Calling him, begging him… He could tell that she was crying. He didn't have to see her to hear the tears in her voice, didn't have to face her to know exactly what she wanted to say.

Didn't she realize that he didn't want her apologies?

He shouldn't have lashed out at her. He shouldn't have yelled at her, at any of them. He should have stayed calm, should have kept that mask up, should have listened to what they'd had to say, dispatched of it quickly, and then gotten their help with Lucifer.

He couldn't do this without them. He knew that.

But… God, he didn't want to deal with them right now. Didn't want to deal with all the emotions that would surely arise. Didn't want to deal with their feelings of guilt and sorrow.

_Chris_, and this time it was Paige's voice, _can you please come back? Piper really needs you right now_.

Chris bit back a dark laugh. And what Piper wanted was all that mattered. Never mind what anyone else wanted. Never mind what got ruined during Piper's pursuit of her own happiness.

The bitterness coalesced into a hard ball in the pit of his stomach. It was hot, and it burned with a raging intensity that would have scared him if he'd given it any thought. But he was too wrapped up in his own frustration and worry to notice.

What was Lucifer planning?

_Chris! Your mother needs you._

That was Phoebe.

And she'd gotten it all wrong.

Piper wasn't his mother, not really. He didn't recognize the three sisters from this time. They didn't fit in with the memories he'd had of them, didn't match the figures he'd built up in his mind. When he'd first left the future, he'd been so worried about facing them. He'd been terrified of what would happen when he saw them, when he found himself forced to lie and manipulate the people he loved, the people he idealized. But then, when he'd arrived, when he'd actually met them.

It had been so incredibly easy.

Piper wasn't his mother. Paige and Phoebe weren't his aunts. There were sharp lines that separated them from his own family, and he'd always managed to stay on the right side of those lines.

_Chris_, Piper called again.

And Chris put her on mute.

* * *

><p>The red-haired sorceress appeared in the middle of the attic in a gust of wind. She glanced around her with a bemused smile before focusing on Piper. Her gaze travelled from Piper's grim expression to the several bottles of vanquishing potion lined up on the table next to the eldest Charmed One's hand.<p>

Lola raised one eyebrow. "A summoning spell and vanquishing potions. You know, it's been a while since I faced an enemy I thought might actually have the power to vanquish me."

"I want to talk to Lucifer," Piper said.

Lola glanced down at the crystals that formed a circle around her, caging her. "And what do you expect me to do about that?" she asked in a bored tone. "I'm hardly his keeper."

"Don't think I won't vanquish you if you don't help me," Piper threatened.

Lola laughed. "Well, I have no doubt that you will certainly _try_," she said. "As for whether or not you will succeed… I don't think you should bet on that, Charmed One."

It had been nearly eight hours since Chris had orbed away, and Piper had yet to hear from him. She had tried calling for him, scrying for him, pleading for him… she'd even tried praying, though she wasn't sure why she believed that it would work. But he had refused to answer her calls and refused to be found, and she could not forget the look in his eyes or the pure fury in his voice when he had shouted at her to stop apologizing.

Even now, hours later, it left her breathless and scared.

How was she supposed to fix anything when the mere act of apologizing sent her son into a fit of rage?

"I want Lucifer to let Leo go," Piper said, forcing away thoughts of Chris and focusing on the matter at hand.

Lola laughed again. "And how exactly do you think you are going to persuade him to do that?" she asked with a smirk.

Lola's complete and utter disregard for the fact that _she_ was the one trapped in a crystal cage and _Piper_ was the one with the vanquishing potions was quickly grating on the Charmed One's nerves, but Piper forced herself to remain calm and said instead, "Don't think I won't find a way to kill him."

"You can't," Lola answered, once again sounding bored.

"After the things he did to my son…" Piper started, but Lola cut her off.

"Lucifer did nothing to Christopher that your son was not willing to undergo," she said, dismissing Piper's words with a careless wave of her hand. "Christopher knew the price of Lucifer's information, and he was willing to pay it. So before you start another tirade about how the devil stole your son's soul, I should tell you… this repetition is getting old."

"That is my son's life you are talking about!" Piper snarled.

"Technically, it was his soul. But, really… it isn't relevant. I am telling you, Charmed One, Lucifer is beyond your reach. So I suggest you let this go and focus your energy on the family members you have left."

"Stop telling me to let things go," Piper snarled. "Stop telling me to just give up! First with Chris, now Leo… I can't. I _won't_."

"You don't have a choice," Lola stated bluntly. "The Elder is gone. Deal with it."

"No!" Piper spat, and seized a potion vial from the table. She hurled it at the crystal cage and the electricity that burst from the crystals on contact with the potion coalesced over Lola's body. She started to cry out in pain, but the cry turned into a strangled scream that cut off quickly, and she fell to her hands and knees. Her hair tumbled in front of her face, obscuring her features from view.

After a few moments, Lola lifted her head and flicked away her hair with one hand. She climbed – slowly and in obvious pain – back to her feet.

Piper stepped closer to the crystal cage. "I want to talk to Lucifer."

"Perhaps," Lola sneered, all playful amusement gone from her voice, "you should try summoning him. Oh… wait. That's right; you _can't_."

"Make him come," Piper ordered, lifting her hand to reveal another potion clenched in her fist.

"If he wants to come, he will come," Lola said softly, her voice still filled with venom. "But since he hasn't shown up yet, I hardly think he is going to be gracing you with his presence any time soon. Accept it, Charmed One. You _lost_."

Lola's words sent rage and fear coursing through Piper's body, and it was all she could do to stop from vanquishing the sorceress right then and there. She couldn't stand the possibility that Leo was lost forever – not now, not so soon after facing the very real possibility that she would never be able to make things up with Chris.

She hated this. This feeling of helplessness. Of not being strong enough. She was Chris' mother, and she had failed him.

Now she was failing Leo.

"I'll make a deal with Lucifer," Piper said, the words rushing from her mouth before she could think through the implications. But she was desperate, and this gamble – risky though it was – might be her only hope.

Chris had said once that they could never beat Lucifer, they could only determine what they were willing to sacrifice and make sure he didn't take anything else from them.

She wasn't willing to sacrifice Leo.

But Lola merely said, "Lucifer won't trade for the Elder's soul."

Piper threw the second potion.

Again, Lola fell to her knees, but managed to keep from crumpling to the floor completely. Her gaze stayed fixed on Piper even as her eyes filled with pain and her body began to shake from the effort of staying semi-upright.

She did not cry out.

When the electricity stopped, she gasped for breath, her chest heaving. But that damned smile was back on her lips, and that mocking amusement replaced the pain in her eyes.

"Why do you give your loyalty to Lucifer when he is willing to leave you here to die?" Piper demanded.

Lola rose to her feet and stared at Piper without showing any emotion. "Because he is the creator of all evil, Charmed One," she said simply. "That makes him _my_ creator." She folded her arms over her chest. "Why do you continue to rail against the inevitable when you know it is little more than a waste of time and effort?"

"Protecting my family is _never_ a waste of time or effort," Piper seethed.

"But you aren't protecting them," Lola countered. "You are doing nothing for them at all. Although…" she smiled, "it is rather amusing."

Piper whirled around and snatched another potion from the table. "I'll show you _amusing_,' she growled.

"You know," Lola said, staring at the potion in Piper's hand, "it really is a pity that your middle sister is the only one with the power of empathy."

Piper stopped, eyebrow raised.

"She can feel the pain and the desperation," Lola continued. "And she can feel the anguish. She can feel the reckless disregard for everything else… Her empathy gives you the ability to see what is happening when no one else has picked up on the clues… she sees that your family is falling apart." She moved her gaze from the potion in Piper's hand to Piper's face. "And you can't see it at all."

"What do you mean?" Piper asked, curious for the answer even though she knew not to believe a word the sorceress said. Lola was mocking her, taunting her… and enjoying it. Nothing she said, nothing she did, should be trusted.

"All these sacrifices," Lola said. "You'd give up your life without hesitation if it would bring the Elder back. Never mind what anyone else wanted." She tilted her head to the side, a thoughtful expression filling her features. "But that is how things go in your family, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" Piper demanded in frustration.

"Prudence Halliwell for Phoebe Halliwell," Lola said. "Christopher for his brother. Leo for his son. All your family does is sacrifice for one another."

"That's not a bad thing," Piper said defensively. "It just shows how much we love each other. Which is a concept I am sure you couldn't possibly understand."

"Oh, I know what love is," Lola said. "I know that it brings pain. And I know that sometimes you have to prove your love by letting another person go." She shook her head. "But Halliwells don't appear to be particularly good at _that_."

Before Piper could respond – and, really, she had no idea what she would say – the air in the attic suddenly rippled and five demons shimmered into the room. They wore dark cloaks over their humanoid forms, but they were still clearly lower-level demons. Their skin was red and their eyes were yellow and forked tongues flicked from between black lips.

They formed a circle around Piper, their eyes fixed menacingly on the eldest Charmed One.

Lola watched the entire scene with an amused expression.

Piper spun around and flung the vanquishing potion at Lola, but one of the demons send a fireball flying towards the vial, and incinerated it before it could reach its intended target. This seemed to be a signal for the other demons to attack, and suddenly Piper found herself being rushed at from all sides.

She flicked her wrist at the nearest demon and he screamed and exploded. She grabbed two vanquishing potions from the table and flung them towards the two demons behind her, and they both burst into flames. The fourth demon, however, was able to reach her easily and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off the ground. She gasped for breath, trying desperately to scream for help, but her voice was choked off by the vice-like grip of the demon's hand.

The demon leaned in, his lips curling into a smile. Yellow eyes pierced straight through hers as the demon growled, "Lucifer sends his regards."

Then he dropped her and shimmered from the attic.

Piper straightened up and looked around. The fifth demon was gone as well, and one of the crystals had been placed innocuously on top of the Book. It's removal had disrupted the cage.

Lola was gone.

* * *

><p>Chris sighed and closed his eyes. He had no doubt that the sisters were still looking for him, even though it had been hours. They were probably scrying for him, maybe even using spells to summon him, or to send themselves to him. Not that any of that would work. He'd long since learned how to block himself from being found through any conventional magical means – a necessity for surviving in Wyatt's world.<p>

Lola had been right. It was hard to focus, hard to get his thoughts to order themselves into neat and logical patterns. His emotions kept running away from him, playing havoc on his mind. He needed to get them under control, needed to push past the _rawness_ of what he was feeling and _think_.

He leaned against the wall and sank into a sitting position. The backroom at P3 wasn't the safest place to hide right now, but after leaving the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, he'd gone to the Underworld and to the arboretum that had been his and Bianca's spot, and he hadn't been able to think clearly in either of those places.

He didn't have anywhere left to go.

Leo had traded his soul to the devil in exchange for Chris' freedom. It was the only explanation that made sense – except that it didn't. Why would Leo do something like that?

And, more importantly, why would Lucifer let him?

But the answers to either of those questions were not obvious, at least not to Chris.

Lucifer hadn't answered his call. Neither had Lola. Not that their absences had surprised him. But he'd searched for Lola in all the places that he knew, and it hadn't helped. He couldn't find her anywhere, and without her, there was no way to find Lucifer.

No way to get answers.

He didn't want to admit defeat. He didn't want to go back to the Manor and talk to the sisters. He didn't want to plan with them or strategize with them or… or even see them.

He didn't want to listen to anything they had to say.

But what other choice did he have?

Piper had said she was _sorry_.

God, he hated that word.

He felt her presence before he heard the footsteps on the floor outside the room, and debated orbing away. But he couldn't run forever, and he supposed that he might as well suck it up and face her now. After all, he'd been hiding for hours. Nearly the full day. It was time to get back on track.

So when Phoebe opened the door to the backroom at P3 and stepped inside, Chris was standing, ready for her.

Except that he wasn't ready for her. He wasn't ready for the way her face lit up in excitement and relief at seeing him. He wasn't ready for the way she moved towards him, without hesitation, her arms extended to hug him. He wasn't ready for the embrace that made him stiffen, and he wasn't ready for the desperate desire to orb away that he was only just barely able to contain.

"Chris, oh thank God, you have no idea how worried we were, sweetie…" She trailed off, apparently realizing that he wasn't returning the hug, that he was merely standing there, ramrod straight, waiting for her to finish and move away from him.

She stepped back, still holding his arms in her grasp.

He cleared his throat. "Hi, Phoebe."

She smiled tentatively. "I was worried you might have tried to made a deal with Lucifer again," she said softly.

Chris took a breath. He could do this. He could talk about this – about his mission, about Lucifer, about his plans – as though it was nothing more than business as usual. As though nothing had changed.

"If Lucifer was willing to take my soul in exchange for Leo's now," he said, "he wouldn't have made the trade with Leo in the first place. Anyway, I can't find him or Lola."

"Piper summoned Lola a little while ago," Phoebe said, dropping her arms and releasing him. She frowned at him, then reached up and touched her forehead with one hand. He'd seen her do this before in the past – and future – and knew what it meant.

He was giving her a headache.

She was picking up on his emotions.

He swore inwardly – and then heard his mother's voice in his head chiding him for the use of such language.

Damn it, why did this have to happen? Why did his mother have to haunt him even now?

Didn't she know that he was doing his best?

Phoebe was gazing at him, but try as he might, he couldn't raise his mental barriers, couldn't protect himself from her powers. And the potion he had taken clearly wasn't strong enough to hide the emotions filling him.

He looked away from her and tried to focus. "What did Lola say?" he asked.

Phoebe leaned against the sofa. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, could see the way she seemed to sag, hunched over with the weight of his feelings. The lines in her face deepened, wrinkles crinkling at the corners of her eyes.

He didn't like being an open book to her.

Never show a weakness in front of the enemy.

Of course, she wasn't the enemy. He might not think of her as family, but she wasn't the enemy, either. She was his charge and he was her white-lighter, and they needed to _focus_.

"Nothing," Phoebe replied after a moment. "She was less than forthcoming. Piper's not giving up, though."

Chris bit back a dark laugh. Of course Piper wasn't giving up. She was far too stubborn – and far to foolish – to do that. But when would she listen to him? When would she understand that this wasn't another vanquish, Lucifer wasn't another demon. It wasn't going to be easy… if it was even possible.

Leo might very well be lost.

"You think we can't save him?" Phoebe asked sharply.

Chris flinched, both at the hardness in her tone and at the reminder that she could clearly tell what he was thinking. He would need to be more careful around her.

Or, better yet, just avoid her entirely.

"I think," he said cautiously, turning to face her, "that you have yet to realize the full scope of Lucifer's power. You're all still acting like he is just another demon. You don't understand…"

"We're not just going to give up," Phoebe cut in heatedly. "Leo is our brother-in-law."

Chris shook his head. It seemed as though every time Leo was in danger they all conveniently _forgot_ that he wasn't Piper's husband anymore.

There was also an accusation implied in Phoebe's words, even if she was careful not to say it explicitly. The three sisters were still fighting for a way to save Leo, to bring him back. To defeat Lucifer. And what was Chris doing?

Hiding.

"I'm not saying that you should give up," Chris defended himself irritably.

"Then what _are_ you saying?"

He didn't have an answer for that; he honestly didn't know what he was trying to say.

"It will destroy Piper," Phoebe said softly. "If we can't save Leo… if she loses him… again…"

Again. Just like she'd lost him once before, when Chris had pushed him into a path that led towards becoming an Elder. He doubted Phoebe had meant it to sound quite like the accusation that it was – or perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps she had meant it. Perhaps she still blamed him for Leo's leaving.

He turned his back on Phoebe. He didn't want to have this conversation with her.

Well, permanently separating his parents was never really what Chris had intended, and before the deal with Lucifer, there had always been that thought floating in the back of his mind – he would need to get Leo and Piper back together.

It didn't seem like that would be an option now. In a desperate bid to save Chris, Leo had done the one thing that was absolutely guaranteed to destroy him.

He'd taken away his chance of being born.

But maybe Leo had done him a favor. Maybe nonexistence would be better than wherever Chris' soul had been before.

"Lucifer kept my body," he said finally.

"So?"

He kept his back to Phoebe, willing his voice to remain steady and his emotions to remain calm as he elaborated, "He kept my body. He preserved it. He would only have gone to that sort of trouble if he believed that one of you would make a deal with him to let me go. Don't you see, Phoebe? He expected that this could be a possible outcome. He planned for it. He's been several steps ahead of you – ahead of us – this entire time."

"What's your point?" Phoebe pressed.

"My point," Chris said, an edge creeping into his voice, "is that even now you are _still_ underestimating him. And he's playing us."

"We want Leo back," Phoebe said firmly, refusing to yield on that particular issue. "Piper needs him."

Chris sighed. "And what Piper wants is all that matters," he murmured quietly, not entirely sure if Phoebe could hear him. It didn't really matter, anyway. She could argue with him all she wanted, but it still boiled down to the same truth; in the end, Piper would do whatever she wanted without any regard for the desires of anyone else. She'd want to help them, save them… And she'd be so convinced that she was doing the right thing. Never mind what anyone else wanted. Never mind the fact that Leo undoubtedly didn't want her to destroy herself in order to save him.

They were all like that.

The irony of it, of course, was that Chris was like that, too. Hadn't he been willing to sacrifice his very soul for Wyatt? And what would Wyatt – good or evil – think of that?

Chris sighed. "This wasn't what I wanted," he said aloud.

Phoebe didn't answer.


	12. Siren Song

AN: Not a whole lot of action in this chapter but some really important plot points...

* * *

><p>Chapter Ten: Siren Song<p>

Chris slammed his fist against the hard stone wall of the Underworld cave, ignoring the dull throb that resulted from the action. The last demon had shimmered away, escaping the young white-lighter's rage, and Chris was left without answers.

He stared bitterly at the piles of ash that littered the floor. How many demons had he vanquished? Four, maybe five?

And how many had escaped?

He closed his eyes. What difference did any of this make? The demons couldn't tell him anything, couldn't give him the information he needed.

And even if they _could_, they wouldn't.

The anger was bubbling inside of him. In a vague and detached way, he noted this, and noted that it was unusual for him to be feeling this particular emotion so intently. Anger, like desperation, was dangerous. It made people do stupid things, made them not think through the consequences of their actions, made them not think past their own immediate desires. And it generally led to more pain.

Chris had learned _that_ lesson in the future, and had done his best over the years to shove his anger downwards, bury it underneath his stubborn determination to succeed at this mission.

He opened his eyes and looked around the cave. He could wander through the corridors looking for more demons, but what was the point? What would he actually gain from it?

Still… what else could he do? He had no other avenues to pursue, no other places to look for information.

He briefly debated orbing back to the Manor, but what would be the point? What could the Charmed Ones tell him that he didn't already know? There would be no answers in the Book, and the Elders wouldn't offer any help, either.

But he needed to do _something_.

The anger bubbling in his veins started mixing with desperation.

He was running out of time.

* * *

><p>Paige had never been the biggest fan of the Elders. No one in the family had, of course, but Paige felt she had more cause than most to dislike them. After all, if not for their rules about witches and white-lighters dating, she wouldn't have been given up for adoption. And though she would never actually wish to trade her adopted parents for anything, it still would have been nice to have had sisters growing up. It would have been nice to have known who she was, where she came from, and what she could do.<p>

And over the past few years, as the Elders' rules constantly interfered with her life and the lives of her sisters, as they continually risked themselves for the Elders agenda while the supposed paragons of good sat in the safety of their own home Up There, as she watched Piper and Leo's marriage get torn apart…

No… she had never been a fan of the Elders.

But it wasn't until this moment than she truly hated them.

There were five of them standing in the attic. Paige recognized Zola and Sigmund, but the other three were strangers. And it was one of these three Elders that was standing slightly forward from the others, apparently having been elected spokesperson. He was tall, with dark eyes and dark hair and an expression that said he had seen a lot in his lifetime and was not easily intimidated.

And he had orbed into her home without any regard for the fact that she didn't want to see him, and had informed her that the Elders wanted the Charmed Ones to stop looking for Leo.

Paige met his gaze coolly and felt her lips curl into a sardonic smile. "And you really expect us to care what you _want_? After what Gideon tried to do to us, why should we care about any of you?"

The Elder – Paige vaguely thought he might have introduced himself as Michael – shook his head gravely and said, "I see it is not only Leo who has forgotten that the actions of one do not necessarily reflect the beliefs of the many. Would you really punish us – and all the world – for Gideon's sins?"

"Well, it's not like you did anything to help us," Paige snapped irritably, too enraged to consider any of the truth in Michael's words.

Michael raised an eyebrow. "It's not like you _asked_," he replied pointedly.

And Paige could say nothing in response to that. It was true, they hadn't asked the Elders for help dealing with Gideon. They hadn't believed that the Elders would actually help them, at least, not without giving Gideon plenty of time to escape. It had been imperative to strike quickly and without warning, or else Gideon would still have been alive and free… and a threat to Wyatt.

In the aftermath of the battle with Gideon, though, the Elders had certainly made their viewpoint clear.

"You condemned Leo's actions," Paige said evenly. "There were several of you who wanted him punished."

Sigmund snorted. "Some of us still do," he muttered under his breath.

Paige narrowed her eyes at Sigmund, her hands curled into fists. After everything they had done for him, after stopping the Horseman that was terrorizing Magic School because he hadn't been able to defeat it, he actually dared to stand there and condemn Leo?

She was seething inside, but wisely did not respond to his comment. Instead, she switched her gaze back to Michael and said, "And you didn't help us get Chris back."

"The Elders' policy on Lucifer is very clear," Michael said evenly. "We do not get involved. The less we have to do with him, the less likelihood there is that we will be pulled into his manipulations. We've already suffered enough losses at his hand…" He trailed off for a moment and his eyes clouded over. He was clearly remembering something painful, but he dwelled on it for only a moment before saying unyielding, "We cannot survive another civil war."

"And we _still_ condemn Leo's actions," one of the other Elders said, stepping forward. She met Paige's gaze and continued, "Gideon may have been wrong, but Leo should not have acted alone. The matter should have been brought before the Elders, and we would have decided how best to deal with it."

Paige opened her mouth to argue, but Michael started speaking before she had a chance to say anything. "Enough, Giselle," he said to the Elder who had spoken. "This argument over Gideon is irrelevant to the topic at hand." He turned back to Paige. "You cannot continue to be involved with Lucifer, and neither can your sisters. Do you understand, Paige Matthews?"

"We are _not_ leaving Leo to him," Paige spat furiously. "How can you even suggest that?"

"We must consider the rest of the world," Michael said grimly. There was something apologetic in his tone, as though even he regretted that it had come to this. But his words were uncompromising all the same.

"The rest of the world?" Paige scoffed. "My family is falling apart and you want me to sacrifice them all for the rest of the world?" She shook her head, feeling both incredulous and bitter. "Haven't we already done that enough?"

Michael ignored her comment and merely continued, "We have been able to confirm that Lucifer has taken Leo's soul. This is already a blow for the Elders. We do not know exactly what Lucifer does with the souls he takes, or what information he can glean from them. Leo's actions have put all of us at risk."

"Then why wouldn't you want to set him free?" Paige demanded. It seemed the logical answer. If allowing Lucifer access to Leo was putting everyone in so much danger, than removing Leo from Lucifer's reach was the only way to end it. "If leaving Leo to Lucifer…"

"We cannot get involved with Lucifer," another female Elder snapped. "Are you not listening to us, Charmed One? We cannot take the risk that Lucifer will manipulate us – or you – more than he already has. He has Leo's soul, but if we can prevent him from taking anything else…"

"Afraid?" Paige taunted, glaring back at the Elder. "You don't want to risk your own souls, don't want to risk your own lives. It's easy to send other people into danger, but when it comes to the Elders, you would rather stand around Up There and let other people fight your battles. You have no idea what loss feels like."

The female Elder narrowed her eyes and said in a venomous tone, "We don't understand _loss_? Need I remind you of what happened to us when the Titans were released less than a year ago?"

Paige took an involuntary step backwards, surprised by the pure rage lacing the Elder's voice. She hadn't though much about that. At no point in the intervening months had she stopped to wonder how the surviving Elders felt about the many who had been killed. Did they feel pain the way mortals did?

"We grieve for our fellow Elders and white-lighters," the female Elder continued in a softer voice, "just as we grieve for every witch who dies battling evil. Do no presume to understand what we feel for our sons and daughters."

"They are the Charmed Ones, Aravis" Sigmund sneered, glancing at the other Elder. "Of course they will _presume_. They are presumptuous enough to…"

"This is not helping," Zola interrupted, speaking for the first time since the Elders had orbed into the attic.

Michael inclined his head in Zola's direction. "True," he agreed solemnly. To Paige, he said, "I understand how much you care for Leo, and your desire to save him is commendable. But do not think for a moment that you will be able to rescue him without paying a price."

Paige sighed inwardly. Chris had said pretty much the same thing to them several weeks ago, when he explained his own deal with Lucifer. There would always be a price – deals with Lucifer demanded it.

And yet…

If they didn't get Leo back, Piper would fall apart completely.

Paige wasn't willing to sacrifice her sister, but what price would they pay for Leo's safe return?

"Why are you telling me?" she asked finally. "Why not Piper or Phoebe?"

Michael sighed. "This is the sort of information we would give a white-lighter with the assumption that the white-lighter would then tell her charges."

"I'm not a white-lighter," Paige argued.

"This is not Christopher's time, and he must soon return to the future. Leo is gone as well. You are therefore the one who must take over the responsibilities of being your family's white-lighter," Michael answered simply.

"You… wait… _what_?" Paige stammered, shocked.

"Your family needs a white-lighter," Michael said, and there was a hint of compassion and maybe even encouragement in his tone. "You are the best suited for that particular duty. It is in your blood." His expression grew grave once more, and he added, "You must make sure your sisters understand what we have told you. The consequences of going up against Lucifer are too severe for any of us to take a chance that…" He stopped, cutting off the words with a shake of his head. Conflicting emotions warred in his expression, and it took him a moment to collect himself before he said, "Pass along the instructions, Paige Mathews."

And he and the other four Elders orbed away.

* * *

><p>Chris paced back and forth across the floor of the back room at P3. He was on edge, his eyes darting constantly towards the door, prepared to orb away if any of the Charmed Ones showed up. He couldn't go through another conversation like the one he'd had with Phoebe.<p>

Unbidden, his mother's face floated to the forefront of his mind and her words echoed through his head. _We're stronger when we stand united, Chris. We're stronger fighting together as a family than we are fighting separately._

He let out a short breath. She'd said that to him once, when he'd been eight or nine. He'd asked her why she so frequently went to her sisters with magical problems, why she never just took care of everything on her own. Why did they have to stay in San Francisco, why did his aunts have to constantly intrude on their lives?

It had been years before she had died. Years before Wyatt had finally crossed that line and had been lost to all of them.

"But we're not a family, Mom," he whispered and he could so picture the way she would have raised her eyebrows in surprise and then pursed her lips in disapproval at that statement. She wouldn't have cared about the difference in time, wouldn't have cared that sometimes he felt as though he didn't even recognize this version of the Charmed Ones. She would have insisted that they were all family and the ties that bound them all together should still exist, regardless of the complications of time travel.

He couldn't live up to those expectations – and she would have told him that she loved him anyway.

He close his eyes and sank onto the sofa, burying his head in his hands. Even after all this time, she was still haunting him.

* * *

><p>"Hey, guys. Got a minute?"<p>

Phoebe glanced up from her seat at the table as Paige walked into the kitchen and wrinkled her nose at the smell of the potion Piper was making. The empath hadn't seen her younger sister in a few hours, and that was all it had taken for Phoebe to know that Paige was preoccupied by something. She just didn't know what that something was, and could only hope that it wasn't too serious.

They couldn't deal with another problem at the moment.

"What is it?" Piper asked, barely glancing up as she threw another ingredient into the pot and watched the potion start to boil.

"I… uh… had a visit from a few Elders," Paige said.

"Great," Piper muttered sourly, still not looking at either sister. "And did they have anything helpful to tell you?"

"Why did they come to you and not all three of us?" Phoebe asked before Paige had a chance to answer Piper's question. Paige looked uneasy, and that sent shivers down Phoebe's spine. Lately, the Elders hadn't been particularly thrilled with any of their decisions, and a visit from them was concerning. But a visit just to Paige…?

"They want me to be the new white-lighter for… well… for us," Paige explained awkwardly, giving Phoebe a half-hearted shrug.

This got Piper's attention, and she looked up sharply. "We have a white-lighter," she said pointedly, anger creeping into her tone. "We have Chris. And once we get Leo back, this family will have an Elder as well."

Phoebe gazed at Piper, careful not to let her emotions show on her face. Just a few months ago, Piper had wanted Leo to stay out of their lives as much as possible. She hadn't been able to move on, to adjust to being a single parent, with him still in her life. In fact, last autumn she had been pretty adamant that they didn't need him – they had Chris.

Now it seemed that she had forgotten all about that.

But nothing had changed. Even if they got Leo back, he was still an Elder. And Piper was still a single mother.

As for having Chris – did they really?

"Chris is going to be returning to the future soon," Paige said. "Or, at least, that's what the Elders think." She looked around. "Is he here?"

"No," Piper said flatly, returning her attention to the potion. She threw the next ingredient in with more force than was necessary, and Phoebe almost flinched as she felt the irritation and helplessness rolling off of Piper in waves.

Why did the empathy-blocking potion work when it actually mattered?

Phoebe rubbed at her forehead as discreetly as possible and sighed inwardly. If Chris returned to the future, they wouldn't have a white-lighter any more. But even if he stayed… he'd clearly been avoiding them, refusing to answer their calls. What good was a white-lighter that they never saw?

"Chris won't go back to the future before we save Leo," Piper said after a slight pause. And she said it with such conviction that it was clear she wasn't allowing herself to consider any other possibility. Leo would come back and Chris would be here when it happened.

But Phoebe knew it wasn't that simple and it wouldn't be that easy – Chris didn't believe Leo could be saved.

"We should tell Chris about what the Elders said," Paige suggested uneasily, giving Piper a wary glance.

"What's the point?" Piper asked harshly. "It's not like he's going to stay around long enough to hear what you have to say." She stopped for a moment, resting a hand on the counter top to steady herself, then added in an almost-whisper, "It's not like you can get him here in the first place."

Phoebe studied Piper's expression, looking for some hint of what her older sister was thinking. Her emotions had softened again, and with the intensity decreased, the potion now able to block them. But the empath could still feel the remnants of _something_ in the air – despair, maybe? It lingered over everything, blanketing Piper in a heaviness that worried Phoebe far more than she wanted to admit.

Piper looked up, and there was a flicker of pain in her eyes, a feeling that the eldest Charmed One was obviously trying so hard to hide.

"Are you avoiding him?" Phoebe asked softly.

Piper took a slow, shuddering breath. "No," she said. "He's avoiding me." She looked dangerously close to tears as she said, "But what difference would it make if he were here?"

"Piper," Paige started compassionately, but then stopped because she evidently had no idea what to say, no idea how to make this better.

"I don't know what to say to him," Piper admitted. "He was so angry when he orbed away. He yelled at me not to… not to apologize to him. But it's not just me he's avoiding he. He hasn't come to use the Book, hasn't ventured into the attic even when I'm not there. And this is his mission, this means everything to him and he… I don't know…" She trailed off for a moment, then said, "I don't understand how he can hate me so much that he doesn't even want to be in the same house as me." She leaned back against the counter, sagging into herself. "I just want to talk to him, but he… he doesn't want anything to do with me. I tried apologizing for everything but he just…" She stopped, shrugged. "I don't know what to say to him."

"Oh, sweetie, he doesn't hate you," Paige protested, quickly crossing to Piper's side and wrapping an arm around her sister's shoulders.

Piper momentarily leaned into Paige's embrace, but then straightened and said firmly, "He does, Paige. You can see that as well as I can."

Paige continued to argue with Piper, but Phoebe wasn't listening. She stared at Piper, lost in her own thoughts. It was clear to her now that Piper's determination to focus on Leo rose, in part, from her inability to get through to Chris. She couldn't help one of the men in her life, so she was overcompensating by doing everything possible to help the other.

And it also obviously allowed her to avoid talking to or about Chris. Focusing on Leo was easier than trying to fix something that might be irrevocably broken.

Except that Piper Halliwell didn't give up. Ever. So why would she stop calling for Chris?

The pieces of the puzzle didn't quite fit together until Phoebe said suddenly and with a start of realization, "You think if you can figure out how to save Leo, you can get Chris back to the Manor long enough to have a conversation with him."

Piper's gaze darted to Phoebe as she nodded slowly.

There was a tense silence in the kitchen. No one had any idea what to say to that.

Phoebe cleared her throat and turned to Paige. "So what did the Elders want? Why did they visit you? Did they have any information that might be helpful."

Paige said somewhat diffidently, "They want us to stop looking for Leo."

"_What_?"

Phoebe flinched at the anger in Piper's tone, automatically ducking her head, half-expecting something to explode. But Piper retained enough control not to accidentally destroy anything in the kitchen, and Phoebe let out a small sigh of relief.

Then she narrowed her eyes at Paige and felt her own resentment against the Elders start to build.

"They think the consequences of going up against Lucifer would far outweigh the benefits of getting Leo back… if we even succeed in that," Paige explained. "They wanted me to tell you that… that we need to stop. We can't have anything more to do with the devil."

"That's ridiculous," Piper snorted. "That's absolutely… ugh."

"Leo is an Elder," Phoebe protested. "He's one of _them_."

"Yeah, but he hasn't exactly been in their good graces since he killed Gideon," Piper pointed out, running a hand through her hair. Her voice was laced with venom as she added, "I be there are plenty of Elders who are happy to have him out of the way."

"Do you really think they'd do that?" Phoebe asked tentatively. She knew the Elders had no problem recycling people's souls, but there was a fundamental difference between doing that and handing over souls to Lucifer.

Piper snorted again, apparently thinking the question absurd and the answer obvious.

"I think they're scared," Paige said after a moment of contemplation. "I think… I think they aren't happy with Leo, but I also think… I think they are really, truly terrified of what Lucifer could do."

* * *

><p>It would be so easy to just give up.<p>

Chris knew he couldn't – he was a Halliwell, and giving up wasn't an option. But he didn't even know what he was trying to succeed at anymore. Saving Wyatt? Well that was done, wasn't it? Saving Leo? Well, that was not very likely, wasn't it?

Defeating Lucifer?

Impossible.

Something inside of him twisted painfully at that thought. Had he really lost? Had he survived battling his own brother, living in that hellish future, and then traveling to the past and searching for answers that were hidden as well as a needle in a haystack, just to lose everything now?

Well… if he was going to lose, then at least it had taken the freaking _devil_ to actually stop him.

That was something to be proud of.

He needed to rest. He needed to take a break a let someone else handle this problem. Why did it have to be his? Why did the weight of the world have to rest on his shoulders? Why did destiny have to pick him?

Why couldn't it be someone else?

He'd had those thoughts so many times in the past – or future, depending on the point of view – but he'd always been able to ignore them, push them to the back of his mind. Now, though…

The woman sitting across from him stared intently at the tarot cards on the table between them. Chris didn't generally put much faith in the words of soothsayers and fortunetellers, but sometimes they're insight could be valuable, and he had no idea where else to turn.

The woman looked up at him. She had peroxide blonde curls and way too much make up, but Chris could _feel_ her magic. She was the real thing, and not just someone looking to make money capitalizing on people's obsession with the occult.

"It's going to destroy you," she said flatly.

When he'd shown up fifteen minutes earlier and asked for a reading, she'd spoken to him in a mystical voice. Her eyes had been unfocused and her words had been full of vague nonsense about fate and surprises and other generic things she could have said to anyone.

It had all been an act.

Now she was being serious.

"I don't know what happened to you," she said, "but it is ripping you apart."

"You can tell that from your cards?" Chris asked.

The woman shrugged. "From my cards, yes. But I can also feel it on you." She leaned back in her folding chair and gave him a scrutinizing stare. Then she said, "You're so good at burying things. Secrets. Emotions. Thoughts. But they're not going to stay buried anymore. They're going to surface in your mind and call to you. They're going to be irresistible. Like a siren's song."

Chris stiffened. "Is there any way to stop it?" he asked sharply. "A way to survive the song?"

The woman considered this for a moment, then said, "Odysseus survived hearing the song by tying himself to the mast of his ship and filling all his sailors' ears with wax."

Chris furrowed his brow. "Was that an answer to my question?" he snapped irritably.

The woman nodded. "Yes, it was." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Do you have a mast to strap yourself to? Do you have soldiers whose ears you can fill with wax?"

Chris didn't bother answering. It seemed like a rather rhetorical question anyway.

"Because if you don't," the woman said, "then the answer is no. There is no way to survive the song."

Chris pushed his chair backwards and rose abruptly to his feet. That wasn't the answer he wanted to hear, but it was the one he had been expecting. Lola had warned him that being released from hell wouldn't be easy. She'd pretty much flat out told him that his emotions would destroy him.

And now the fortuneteller was confirming it.

Well, at least he wouldn't have to suffer through this for too much longer. His conception date was getting closer, and when that day passed…

"Thank you," he said in a somewhat choked voice, nodding to the woman. She nodded back, and he excused himself quickly.

Once outside, he took a few slow breaths to calm his rapidly beating heart and tried to think clearly. In the future, survival had depended on keeping things buried. Emotions got in the way, fears were easy to manipulate, and knowledge was too valuable a weapon to let fall into the wrong hands. And he'd survived – in some ways even flourished – because of his ability to compartmentalize.

And now that was gone. Lost.

It made sense, too. Lucifer couldn't tell a lie. Lucifer couldn't _make_ people do anything. But he could whisper poisonous words in their ears, could play on their hopes and their fears, could walk with them right to the edge of the metaphorical cliff and watch as they threw themselves off it.

And what had hell done to Chris? It hadn't filled his mind with lies. It hadn't changed him, hadn't made him into someone else, someone different. It had merely made it harder for him to ignore the parts of himself that he didn't want to face. It had capitalized on his own poisonous truths, his own tantalizing hopes, his own desperate fears.

It had done to Chris exactly what Lucifer so often did to his victims.

_If you wear your heart on your sleeve_, Wyatt had told Chris once, _you make it easier for your enemies to rip it out._

Lucifer was the enemy, and there was no doubt in Chris' mind that the devil would enjoy nothing more than to rip out and trample all over Chris' heart.


	13. Future Imperfect

Chapter Eleven: Future Imperfect

Chris had fallen in love with Bianca because she was the first person outside of his family to treat him like a normal human being.

Well, that probably wasn't true. There had been childhood friends, of course, and family friends, but that had all changed when Wyatt had changed and Chris gave little thought to those times or those people. After the war had started in earnest, after the Resistance had been founded, after the world had gone to hell…

He'd been called many things. Wyatt Halliwell's little brother. A leader in the Resistance. One of the most cunning witches left on the side of Good. And so people treated him with awe and reverence, or with fear and apprehension, or with desperate hope.

Bianca was the first one to treat him like a human being.

She yelled at him when he was being stupid or stubborn and hugged him when people died or things went wrong– even when he didn't want her to – and she was always pestering him, always wanting to know if he was alright. Of course, she never actually out rightly asked if he was alright. She simply followed him around with _that_ look in her eyes and he _knew_ she expected him to talk about whatever the problem was, regardless of how much he _didn't_ want to.

He'd yell at her when he was angry at other people because she was a convenient target. But she didn't shrink away from his anger and she didn't conjure an energy ball and declare him a traitor. She merely squared her shoulders, glared at him, and yelled back.

And she had her own moments of unfounded anger, too. She yelled at him when she was upset and took out her frustration and fury on him when there was no one else around and sometimes she'd scream at him that _yes, she knew the world was going to hell but they were dating and once, _just once_, she wanted him to put her first_.

His Aunt Paige had called their relationship tumultuous. Daryl had compared it to dry kindling; all it needed was one spark and the entire thing would go up in flames. Grandpa had warned Chris to be careful, explaining that he was worried about Bianca's temper.

Sometimes Chris wondered why no one worried about his temper.

But Bianca did.

He'd yell and scream and she'd drag him to the nearest chair, shove him into it, and tell him to _shut the hell up_. He'd tell her he wasn't _fucking interested in anything she had to say_ – and then he'd hear his mother's voice in his head reprimanding him about the use of such language.

Bianca would just roll her eyes at him. She argued with him when he worked too hard, and insisted that he sleep when he got tired and eat when he got hungry, and she reminded him over and over that he wasn't infallible and he was just one person and she was _so_ _incredibly sick_ of his martyr complex.

It was ironic, really; of all the people in the Resistance – witches, magical creatures, and even non-magical mortals – it was an assassin who had taught him what it was like to be normal.

Which was why now, as Chris sat on the sofa in the back room at P3, he couldn't help but wonder what she would say if she could see him now. He was twenty-some odd years in the past, sitting in his not-yet mother's club contemplating the fact that he was probably going to cease to exist in a couple days. How was anything about this normal?

_But Bianca would have had an answer to that, too_, he thought bitterly. She would have pointed out to him that the situation might not be normal but he was still human and he had to remember his limitations.

He snorted. He didn't need a reminder of his limitations; he was clear on those.

He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He needed to sleep, but how could he when he had so little time left? How could he get any rest with that damned clock ticking away, reminding him of how little time he had left before his conception date passed?

And even if he'd had all the time in the world, how could he sleep when he was haunted by nightmares?

"It's not a martyr complex when you actually do have to sacrifice everything to save the world," he muttered to the empty room.

* * *

><p>Paige was more than a little surprised to find Chris standing at the Book when she entered the attic. She paused in the doorway, not bothering to hide her shock, and when Chris looked up at her, she met his gaze evenly.<p>

"We've been calling you," she said.

Chris shrugged. "I had other things to do," he replied. He dropped his gaze once more to the Book.

Paige cleared her throat. "Piper really wants… she wants to talk to you."

Chris frowned slightly. "I'm busy," he said flatly. "I don't have time to talk to her."

"Are you sure you're not just avoiding her?" Paige demanded. Chris flinched at the accusation, and Paige was struck by how ill-concealed the gesture was. She had never imagined that she would see a version of Chris that didn't have his guard up and his calm façade in place.

What had hell done to him?

She noted idly that his hands had curled around the edge of the podium, and he was now gripping the stand so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"I have a lot to do," he said.

"Chris, please…" Paige entreated, taking a few tentative steps forward, "just talk to me. Let me help you. You look exhausted."

Chris lifted shadowed eyes and replied, "Don't do that." Paige raised an eyebrow questioningly and he continued, "Don't feed me lies. I know why you're here, Paige. You don't want to help me; you just want to get me to promise to help Piper."

"That's not true," Paige said firmly. And it _wasn't_ true. She couldn't change what he thought or how he felt, but she was being entirely honest when she said she wanted to help him.

She wanted to help Piper, too. She just hoped those two desires weren't mutually exclusive.

Chris shrugged and slowly unclenched his fingers from the podium. He turned away from her and asked in a would-be casual tone, "Is Piper still trying to come up with a way to defeat Lucifer?"

"Yes," Paige answered. "Although the Elders are against it."

Chris whipped around suddenly at that. "What?" he demanded, his eyes filled with some incredibly strong emotion that she couldn't quite identify.

"The Elders are against it," Paige repeated, surprised by his reaction.

Chris blinked, sighed. "Of course they are," he spat, and it was the first time Paige had seen him show any emotion other than bewilderment towards Leo's most recent actions and subsequent fate.

"You want to help Leo," Paige said bluntly. She didn't really want to admit to it, but she'd had doubts before. For someone who had been so dedicated to saving Wyatt, saving his family, Chris hadn't really seemed to care that Leo was trapped in hell. When he'd first returned, she'd assumed that he would start on some mission to save Leo, and treat it the same way he'd treated his mission to save Wyatt – with the single-minded, stubborn, neurotic determination that had so often grated on all their nerves. She hadn't expected that the three sisters would be the ones trying to drag Chris back to the Manor to help.

For a while, she'd thought he didn't care about Leo. And that thought had left her feeling uneasy and worried… and alone. Because who could she really discuss it with? Piper wasn't receptive to any real discussion about Chris at the moment and she certainly wouldn't be open-minded during a discussion about Chris possibly not carrying about Leo. And Phoebe…

Honestly, Paige didn't know what Phoebe thought or how she felt. But she was starting to suspect that her middle sister didn't think Leo could be saved.

"I can't help Leo," Chris said, interrupting Paige's thoughts. "No one can."

"So you're just going to give up?" Paige asked sharply.

And once again, Chris flinched.

Once upon a time, Paige had had some sort of sixth sense for identifying and helping abused children. It was what had led her towards social work, what had made her want to help all those terrified children who would stare at her from the other side of the desk. She had been good at reading the signs – the distrust, the determination to do everyone on their own, the belief that no one would help them… and the belief that the hits would just keep coming.

Something about Chris was reminding her of that.

Was that an effect of hell? Or was it an effect of his past, of the hellish future he'd come to change?

"You don't understand, don't appreciate, how dangerous Lucifer is," Chris said finally. "You keep talking about this like… like you can save Leo. Like you can defeat the devil. You don't _understand_…" He trailed off and shook his head.

Paige opened her mouth to say something – though she really had no idea what – but was cut off by the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind her and then Piper walked into the attic.

And froze.

"Chris?" the eldest Charmed One asked in a strangled tone.

Chris jerked away from her, and Paige watched as Piper's hopeful expression fell at Chris' obvious reluctance to be around her. She didn't appear to be able to move forward, so she simple stood there.

But Chris looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and he, too, was frozen to the spot.

"Piper," Chris greeted finally. His tone was awkward and his entire body was stiff, and Paige could actually _feel_ the tension thick in the air. There was a flicker of something – fear, maybe? – in his eyes, but then it was gone, smoothed away behind a mask of calm.

The mask still had far too many cracks in it.

"I heard you summoned Lola and she wasn't helpful," Chris said. "And now the Elders don't want you to get any more involved with Lucifer."

"I'm not giving up," Piper said firmly, a hint of anger in her tone. Chris stared at her and didn't answer, and she finally shook herself free of her frozen stupor and walked further into the room.

Paige watched the interaction warily.

"We've been calling you," Piper continued.

"Yes," Chris said, eyes darting sideways to land briefly on Paige. "That has already been brought to my attention."

"We could use your help."

Chris narrowed his eyes and Paige knew the entire conversation was about to go south and there was not a damn thing she could do to stop it.

"Help with what?" Chris asked. "A suicide mission? You can't win against Lucifer."

"I am not going to give up on this family!" Piper snapped in reply. "I am going to save Leo. And I want to help you, too. But you're avoiding me." There was a definite edge to her voice now.

Chris pursed his lips. "I've been busy," he said, and didn't quite meet her gaze.

"So have I," Piper said, taking another few steps forward. "So have Phoebe and Paige. But we should be working together… as a family."

"We're not a family," Chris said. The moment the words were out of his mouth his mask crumbled completely and he looked as though he would give anything to take back what he had said. But it had slipped out, and there was no going back.

Piper was gazing at Chris with desperate longing and something like anger, and Paige wanted to somehow remove that look from her sister's face. But then she looked at Chris and saw the fear again, and the exhaustion. And she wanted to interrupt, wanted to say something. _Anything_. Just something to stop this train wreck of a conversation before her sister and nephew crossed lines that couldn't be uncrossed.

But she couldn't think of anything that would stop this.

Why were words failing her now when she desperately needed them?

Chris took a very audible, shaky breath and lowered his gaze away from the two sisters.

"Chris, I…" Piper started, but then stopped abruptly as she drew close enough to see the page of the Book Chris was looking at. Her mouth fell open and the longing in her eyes was replaced by one of disbelief, and Paige stepped forward automatically.

Chris moved quickly, trying to slam the Book shut, but it was too late. Piper and Paige had both already seen the entry and Piper caught the Book cover before it could close completely.

"Time travel?" she demanded hoarsely, pushing the Book back open. "Portals?"

"I…" Chris started, but couldn't seem to finish.

"You're leaving us?" Piper asked.

Paige scanned the Book. The entry was about time portals, and it seemed to be the safest way to return to the future without requiring a Power of Three spell. There were risks, of course, but it would take him back…

Paige looked up in time to see Piper's expression close off completely as she waited for Chris to answer.

Chris closed his eyes. "I need to check on Wyatt," he said. "I need to make sure the future is really saved."

"I thought you believed Lucifer," Piper retorted, and she was now staring at Chris with such… _disappointment_. "I thought you said…"

"I said Lucifer can't lie," Chris interrupted angrily. "But like I have explained many times, the fact that he can't lie doesn't mean that we should _believe_ him."

"But you can't leave!" Piper protested. "Leo…"

"Leo's _gone_, Piper!" Chris snarled.

Piper paled dramatically. One hand rose to hover over her slightly open mouth and her eyes filled with tears. Paige reached to reassuringly grip Piper's shoulder, but Piper just shrugged her off in an fury-filled movement.

A look of regret flitted through Chris' eyes and then was gone, replaced by an unyielding firmness.

"We will get him back," Piper said coldly.

"At what cost?" Chris retorted. "What are you going to sacrifice for him? _Who_ are you going to sacrifice for him?" Piper didn't answer and Paige just watched in wide-eyed silence, and Chris pressed onwards, "If you had just left well enough alone and not tried to get me back in the first place…"

"You are my son! You are Leo's son! We _love_ you."

"No, you don't," Chris countered ruthlessly. "You don't even know me, and what you did know about me you _certainly_ didn't like. I was a nuisance and I was neurotic and I was in the way, but I gave _everything_ for Wyatt and I deserved to have you listen to what _I_ wanted just once. And what I wanted was for you to let me _go_!"

The tears pooled in Piper's eyes and began to slide over her lashes and slip down her skin. "Do you really think that would have _saved_ the family?" she asked in a pain-filled tone. "Do you think trading one son for the other was _ever_ going to be acceptable to us? And I _do_ love you, Chris. Maybe I don't know you, but I want a chance to get to know you and I can't do that if you've traded your soul to the devil."

"And how do you think I feel now, knowing that Leo is gone because he tried to save me?" Chris retorted.

It was abundantly clear to Paige that he was blatantly ignoring the second part of Piper's statement, and Paige couldn't help but wonder if it was because he didn't believe that _Piper_ wanted to get to know _him_ or if it was because _he_ didn't want to get to know _them_.

She was rather tempted to ask Chris, to find out what he would say.

But Piper had focused on a different part of Chris' words, and she asked in bewilderment and naked panic, "Tried? He did save you. I thought the deal… is Lucifer coming back for you?"

Chris shook his head mutely, then finally said, "No… no." He scrubbed at his eyes with one hand and said tiredly, "I just need to make sure the future is saved."

"Which you can do after we save Leo," Piper argued.

"I don't have time, Piper," Chris snapped.

They had reached an impasse, and it was clear – to Paige, at least – that nothing was going to change either of their minds. Chris' expression had become stony while Piper's kept alternating between pleading and anger, and the longer the argument continued the worse it would become.

"Chris, time travel would allow you to return to the future at any point," Paige said, cutting in gently. "Why are you in such a rush?"

"This isn't about…" Chris started, and then stopped and shook his head. "I never wanted Leo to do this," he said quietly. "And now he's just screwed up everything."

"Screwed up everything?" Piper repeated incredulously. "Is that really what you think? He gave his soul for you, to save you, and you think he screwed up?"

"_Save_ me?" Chris nearly exploded at Piper. He stepped away from the Book, bearing down on Piper and Paige, and it was in that moment that Paige realized just how tall her nephew-from-the-future was. He was actually shaking with rage as he towered over them and spat, "Do you really think he saved me?"

"Chris…" Paige started, desperate to calm him down before the entire confrontation spun out of control. But he interrupted her, and maybe it was for the best – she still didn't know what she would say, anyway.

"He did the one thing he could to guarantee that I _wouldn't_ be saved! He gave up his life before I had a chance to be conceived."

Chris was yelling now, and Piper's hands moved immediately to her stomach as though she could somehow protect the child that wasn't there yet. The tears had stopped, replaced by a look or utter horror and a dumbfounded silence.

Paige felt sick. How had that never occurred to her? How had it not occurred to Leo? How had none of them realized that Chris really was running out of time?

Chris spun around and stalked over towards the window. With his back to them, he said coldly, "My soul might not be in hell but what difference does it make?"

There was a moment of complete silence, then Piper said with clearly forced determination, "All the more reason to focus on getting Leo back." But her tone shook, belying the firmness of her words, and her eyes were haunted, as though some part of her doubted what she was saying.

"Is that all you can think about?" Chris asked bitterly. "Saving Leo?"

"I'm trying to save my family," Piper retorted. "We got you out, we can get Leo out, too. We have to get Leo out…" She trailed off, then cleared her throat and said softly, "We're going to fix this, sweetie."

"You're not listening!" Chris retorted. "God, you can't even… you can't even hear what I am saying."

"And you're not hearing what I am saying," Piper countered, her face flushing. "What Leo did was…"

"Stupid?" Chris cut in harshly. "Reckless? Dangerous? Counterproductive?"

Piper let out a long breath, trying – and failing – to hold in her temper. Paige could see all the warning signs and she could only assume that Chris saw them, too. But maybe he didn't care. Maybe he was past carrying about how what he said would affect Piper.

Maybe he was past carrying about anything.

So Paige spoke quickly, before Piper had a chance to say anything else, "Leo might not have thought through the consequences of what he did, but he did it for the right reasons."

Chris chuckled darkly. "Does it matter if his reasons were good?" he demanded in a viciously cold voice. "He still screwed up everything."

"Don't judge what he did!" Piper said, taking a few steps forward and placing her hands on her hips. Her eyes flashed dangerously and Paige knew – just absolutely _knew_ – that everything was about to unravel.

"Why not?" Chris challenged, meeting her gaze steadily and refusing to back down. "I didn't ask him for this, and yet he went ahead and did it anyway. Never mind the kind of disaster it could cause. Why can't I judge him?"

"Because you did the same damn thing!" Piper yelled.

Her words were loud and angry and reverberated around the attic and Chris' mouth fell open in response.

Paige felt her heart start to race. She had to do something, had to stop this, couldn't just stand here and watch two people she loved yell at each other until they finally said things that could never be taken back…

"You traded your soul to save Wyatt without any thought of how _he_ would feel about that. You traded your soul without any thought of how this _family_ would feel about it. You did it because it was what you wanted to do and you didn't think about what the rest of us might have wanted and now you actually dare to stand there and judge Leo for doing the _exact same thing_?"

The anger was a defense mechanism to cover the hurt. Chris was hurting her now, and Lucifer and Leo had hurt her in the past, and lately it seemed like all the Elders ever did was hurt her – Piper was hurt, and she was lashing out in response. Paige knew that, Chris had to have known it; even Piper must have known it. It was one of the more unfortunate Halliwell characteristics – that an a stubbornness that knew no bounds.

Piper had both those traits.

And apparently Chris had inherited them as well.

"I was trying to save the world," he snarled, hitting back hard. "You were just trying to deal with your own guilt."

"If you wanted to save the world, you could have just killed Wyatt," Piper shot back, splotches of red appearing on her cheeks. "_That_ would have saved the world. But you didn't do that. You gave up your soul to Lucifer because you decided it would be easier for you. It was alright for _us_ to have to deal with the fact that we couldn't save you, but not for _you_ to ever have to deal with the fact that you couldn't save Wyatt."

"Did you _want_ me to kill him?"

"Of course not! But I didn't want to trade you for him, either. Did you even stop for a second to think about what your loss would do to this family?"

Chris narrowed his eyes. "I didn't occur to me at the time. I wasn't under the impression that you had cared much about me then."

Piper opened her mouth to say something, but before she could utter a sound, he orbed away.

* * *

><p><em>Because you did the same damn thing!<em>

Piper's words echoed in Chris' mind, refusing to leave him alone. He wanted to forget them, wanted to refute them, wanted so badly for that accusation not to be true.

But it was.

He had done the same thing. For all his anger at them, all his fury at the way they had interfered with his plans, putting everything in jeopardy – he was not exempt from the Halliwell tradition of sacrifice. He had given his soul for Wyatt, and no matter how much he had claimed that it had been to save the world, some part of him always knew it was for his brother.

He had loved Bianca because she was the first person outside of his family to treat him like a normal human being. But sometimes… sometimes he'd hated her for it, too.

She'd been the one to point out that bitter truth, to whisper it to him in the middle of the night when there was no one else around to hear – _we both know, Chris, that there is a very good chance you would simply let the world burn if it meant saving Wyatt_.

Sometimes he thought he was stronger than that. Sometimes he thought he could live with his brother's blood on his hands if he had to – that the world always came first. Sometimes he thought he believed in the Greater Good.

But most of the time he knew none of that was true.

After all, if he'd been okay with killing a baby to save the world, how did that make him any different from Gideon?

And how could he hold Leo to a higher standard when he himself had been willing to make that initial sacrifice? How could he blame Piper for believing she could defeat Lucifer when he had been the one to open the can of worms by making the first deal?

Bianca had never blamed him for putting Wyatt above everything else. She'd never once told him that his willingness to sacrifice the world for his family made him a bad person. Whenever she saw that conflict in his eyes during strategy meetings and tactical conferences, whenever she knew he was struggling under the almost unbearable burden of juggling two different desires, she'd just squeeze his hand and whisper something comforting.

Usually, she reminded him that he felt this way because he was only human, and he shouldn't expect anything else from himself.

But she hadn't let him lie about it, either. At least not to her, and certainly not to himself. She made him face the reality that Wyatt was more important to him than anything else in the world. She made him face the reality that he was only human.

And he'd hated her for it.


	14. Of Family (part one)

Chapter Twelve: Of Family

The room was quiet. Not silent – not entirely. The boy sleeping on the sofa was breathing steadily, and each inhale and exhale was just loud enough to break the stillness.

There were charts on the ground and lists on the table and pens and notes and bits of paper strewn about. It was haphazard – messy. But there was a pattern to it; one that emerged slowly from the chaos. It was clear the boy had been looking for something – and clear, too, that he hadn't found it.

Lucifer stood in the doorway, surveying the scene, and smiled.

He crossed the room, his footsteps making even less noise than the boy's breathing. The devil reached out, resting one hand gently on the boy's forehead, and murmured, "Sweet dreams, Christopher."

* * *

><p>"<em>Get out of my way, Prue."<em>

"_No."_

_It was a standoff, and it was tearing Chris apart _

_His cousin wasn't going to move, and she was the only thing standing between him and success. This mission was too vital, too necessary, for it to fail, and yet the only way for it to succeed was to get rid of Prue._

_And she wasn't going to go down without a fight._

_Chris tensed, his entire body ready for anything, as he asked in a low voice, "What happened to you?"_

_Prue laughed mirthlessly, no amusement in her eyes. It was a dark sound, a troubled sound, and it sent shivers down Chris' spine. What had happened to the little girl who used to follow him around the Manor, begging him to play with her? What happened to the child who wore pigtails and bright pink and laughed in delight at everything from bubbles and butterflies to the smell of her Aunt Piper's cooking?_

_Prue jutted her chin out, flipping dark hair away from even darker eyes, and said, "I don't want to fight you, Chris. But I will."_

"_Why? How can you just stand there and… God, Prue, don't you know what will happen… don't you understand?"_

_An icy smile appeared on the girl's lips, matching the iciness of her eyes. "I understand," she said simply, flatly. There was no remorse in her voice, nothing to indicate that this bothered her. Nothing to indicate that she saw flaws in her reasoning, that she cared at all about the people she was condemning._

"_They're going to die… all of them. Prue, you can't… this isn't what Aunt Phoebe would have wanted… This isn't what any of them would have wanted!" The raw emotion choked his voice, making it hard to speak, but Chris was determined that Prue face the consequences of what she was doing._

_Prue shook her head. "My mother would have wanted me to survive," she said. "She didn't – couldn't. She died. But she wouldn't want that for me."_

"_And what about the rest of us?" Chris demanded._

_Prue shrugged. "You picked the wrong side." Something almost human flashed in her eyes, and she added in a more gentle tone, "I really don't want to hurt you, but that doesn't mean I won't."_

_"How can you say that? How can you choose him?"  
><em>

"_Because Wyatt is family, Chris! He's _your_ family – your brother. How can you turn on him, how can you betray him?"_

"_I'm not…"_

"_There's nothing left! Everything that ever mattered to me – to _them_ – it's gone. _They're_ gone. My parents, your parents, Uncle Henry… Everything's been taken away, everything's been destroyed. The Manor was in shambles before Wyatt rebuilt it. Magic was exposed, and despite everything we'd done for the world, they turned on us!" She stopped abruptly, shook her head as though desperate to force away the thoughts. In a calmer voice, she said, "Wyatt is all I have left."_

"_You have me!" Chris snarled._

"_You?" Prue repeated, scoffing. "_You_? What did you ever give me, Chris? With the world falling down all around me, what did you do? You _left_."_

"_I had to," Chris defended himself. "Wyatt was killing people. I had to save them, had to stop him." He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall at the memory of those first few days after Wyatt had turned, at the horror that had followed him everywhere, and added pointedly, "I asked you to come with me. I _begged_ you to come with me."_

"_You asked me to chose between you and Wyatt," Prue argued. "Wyatt didn't ask that of me. Wyatt didn't demand anything of me then."_

_Chris narrowed his eyes and asked pointedly, "And what is he demanding of you now?"_

_Prue looked away and didn't answer._

* * *

><p>Each idea was becoming more outlandish than the last. Piper knew that – and knew what it meant. She was running out of ideas, running out of ways to solve this problem. If she couldn't get Leo back, if she lost him and Chris…<p>

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. There had to be a way. She just had to find it.

Unfortunately, any thought that crossed her mind was quickly discarded. Nothing would work, not really, and she was growing desperate.

Her most recent idea – call the Cleaners and ask them to erase Lucifer – was ludicrous at best. Not only would they not agree, but even if she could somehow persuade them, getting rid of Lucifer wasn't necessarily going to bring Leo back.

The sound of orbs filled the attic and Piper snapped her eyes open and turned towards the noise. Unrealistic hope fluttered briefly in her chest – could this be Leo, or even Chris? – but was soon dashed as the man who appeared before her was not someone she had any desire to see.

She didn't recognize him, but she recognized the golden robe, and the very fact that an Elder had the audacity to appear uninvited in her attic so soon after they had instructed the sisters to give up on Leo made Piper's blood boil. Her lips thinned into a straight line and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Piper Halliwell," the Elder said.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Piper demanded coldly.

"My name is Michael," the Elder replied calmly. He fixed Piper with a stern stare, not at all cowed by the fury so clearly radiating from the eldest Charmed One. "As for what we want, did your sister not tell you that?"

Piper snorted and replied, "If all you want is to tell me to give up on Leo, then you can get the hell out of my attic," and she turned away from Michael, walking back to the Book and flipping through it, ignoring the Elder.

"Careful, Charmed One," Michael cautioned, following her across the attic floor. "I may be more lenient than the other Elders when it comes to the rules, but there are only so many times you can blatantly flaunt them before we _all_ lose our patience with you."

Piper lifted her eyes and asked incredulously, "Before _you_ lose your patience with _us_?" She laughed bitterly, darkly, and continued, "I think we've long since lost our patience with you."

"If you continue down this path, you could very well destroy everything we have worked so hard to gain since our last confrontation with Lucifer," Michael said. "You must see the bigger picture…"

"The bigger picture?" Piper interrupted. "This is my _family_. There is no bigger picture than my family."

"There is always a bigger picture," Michael replied softly. "There are always people hurt and dying. There are always people in danger. Your family is not the only one that suffers. But we will all undoubtedly suffer if you allow Lucifer to bait you like this." He folded his arms over his chest. "This is your last warning, Charmed One. Stop looking for the devil."

Piper raised her chin defiantly. "And if I don't?" she questioned.

Michael's expression became even more grim as he replied, "We will do what needs to be done to protect the world."

* * *

><p>It was Phoebe who suggested the idea, even though it made her a little uneasy.<p>

No matter how many times the three sisters summoned demons, they were unable to get any information on Lucifer's whereabouts or Lucifer's plan. No one would speak to them; either loyalty to, or fear of, Lucifer kept the silent. But maybe they were going about this the wrong way. Maybe they should stop trying to obtain help from those on the side of Evil.

Maybe they should be getting help from people on the side of Good.

"The Elders have forbidden us from going after Lucifer," Paige argued pointedly. "What makes you think we can get help from anyone now?"

"But I'm not saying we should ask the Elders," Phoebe argued. "I'm saying we should ask some of the groups we've helped over the years. Leprechauns, nymphs, dwarves…"

"They'll listen to the Elders," Piper said angrily. "They won't help us if the Elders tell them not to."

"But we don't know if the Elders _have_ told them not to," Phoebe replied.

"They're probably watching us, listening to our conversation right now," Paige said, glancing towards the ceiling. "It wouldn't surprise me if they've just ordered every white-lighter out there to carry messages to all of our potential allies, telling them to stay away from us."

It sounded paranoid, but Phoebe knew that Paige was probably right. She wouldn't put it past the Elders to keep tabs on them now, when the stakes were so high and they were at such odds. She'd thought about that before bringing this idea to her sisters. In fact, she'd considered it so seriously that she'd actually debated insisting Paige orb them to the Underworld where the Elders wouldn't be able to spy on them.

In the end, though, she wasn't sure it would matter.

"Here's the thing," Phoebe said, "we're the Charmed Ones. We've helped these people – and creatures – when the Elders didn't. And Leo saved pretty much everyone from the Titans. I think we can find beings who will listen to us. I think we can find beings that will help."

They would need to be cautious, though, and it was that realization that made Phoebe uneasy. She had no qualms about disobeying the Elders – what right did they have to give orders anyway, particularly when it was Gideon whose initial betrayal had started this entire mess? – but she was hesitant to begin any real conflict with them. They couldn't afford to cross any lines because they still needed to be able to smooth things over when this was done.

"So where do we start?" Paige asked, leaning forward eagerly, eyes fixed on Phoebe.

It was Piper who answered, "The Gypsies. Remember when we helped protect Ava from the demon after her family?"

"And then she trained us to be midwives for you even though you were so adamant that you would have Wyatt at a hospital despite all the danger?" Paige said with a smirk. "Yes, I remember."

"Gypsy magic might be able to help us," Piper continued, rolling her eyes at Paige's remark.

Paige was already on her feet, moving towards the telephone.

Phoebe glanced at Piper. The eldest Charmed One was smiling, looking actually optimistic for the first time in weeks, and Phoebe felt her uneasiness at the plan start to abate. She desperately wanted to save Chris and Leo, but it was more than that. She wanted to save Piper, too, because she knew that failing at this would destroy her sister.

It seemed like only a few days ago that she had warned Paige of the changes she could sense in Piper and Leo. For reasons she hadn't been able to fully explain, the anger and desperation and guilt she had sensed in them then had scared her.

The desperation she saw in Piper – and the willingness to do whatever it took to save her family – scared Phoebe now, too.

But what other choice did they have? Giving up was not an option.

She followed Paige from the room.

By the time she found her sister in the kitchen, Paige was already hanging up the phone. She turned towards Phoebe, smiling. "Ava is going to come over in a bit," she explained before Phoebe could ask. "She's going to talk to some of the others in her clan first, see if they know anything."

"When the Elders talked to you before, did they say what they would do if we didn't listen to their instructions?" Phoebe asked bluntly.

Paige frowned and replied slowly, thoughtfully, "No. I mean, they weren't specific, but they made it clear not listening to them would not end well for us." She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

Phoebe gave a half-hearted shrug. "I just want to know what we're up against," she said softly. "I'd rather avoid any unnecessary conflict."

"Phoebe, this was _your_ idea," Paige said, sounding annoyed. "You can't be backing out of it already."

"I'm not," Phoebe said. "Really… I'm _not_. I just…" She stopped, unable to come up with the right words. She wasn't even really sure what she was trying to say, or what she was thinking and feeling. It was too complicated, too convoluted.

Her emotions were too mixed up with everyone else's.

"I just want this to work, that's all," she said finally. "I don't want the Elders to get in the way. I don't want them to make things worse."

Paige leaned back against the counter. "You weren't there," she said. "You didn't listen to Piper and Chris argue… it was like watching two trains rushing at each other at sixty miles an hour and not being able to do anything about it."

Phoebe furrowed her brow, not sure why Paige was telling her this. She knew Piper and Chris were at odds. Well, Chris was at odds with all of them. But what did that have to do with the three sisters going up against the Elders?

"I'm not sure that Chris even wants to save Leo," Paige said, lowering her voice and glancing towards the door. Phoebe didn't bother to ask why Paige was now whispering, the answer was obvious enough. This was not a conversation they could afford to have with Piper.

Phoebe, however, did bristle at the comment. How could Paige accuse Chris of not caring about his own family when he had been willing to sacrifice everything for Wyatt?

"Then… when Chris and I argued, before Piper got there… there was this moment when I thought I saw something… some emotion… in his eyes. I thought… I thought he wanted to save Leo. I thought he cared about Leo. I thought he…" Paige stopped, shook her head. "Now I can't help but wonder if what I saw wasn't actually his desire to save himself. Leo is just a means to an end… without him, there would be no more Chris."

Phoebe wasn't sure how to respond. She wanted to defend Chris, of course. But some part of her also had to admit that Chris hadn't been acting like himself since his return and she really _didn't_ know how he felt about Leo.

So, after a moment of contemplation, she settled on merely asking, "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Piper is angry. Furious. She needs somewhere for that anger to go, and if it doesn't go towards Lucifer and the Elders, then it is going to go towards us. Towards Chris and his issues with Leo, whatever they are. And towards herself." Paige chewed her lip nervously. "If we can't get Leo back – and soon – I don't think any of us are going to survive it. I know you're worried about the Elders, but I don't think… Honestly, I think a conflict with them will be the least of our problems."

Phoebe considered this, finally deciding that she couldn't argue with the logic. She knew how loss and grief affected them all, knew how their powers made them all the more dangerous. Piper had turned into a Fury after Prue's death and a Valkerie after Leo became an Elder; Phoebe herself had turned into a banshee the first time she had lost Cole.

"I'm going to orb over to P3," Paige said slowly, breaking into Phoebe's thoughts. Her words were measured as though she was just now thinking through the idea. "If Chris is there, I can let him know that we're going to talk to Ava."

Phoebe pursed her lips. "Do you think he's going to care?" she asked, voicing the concerns she could see clearly in Paige's expression.

Paige answered with a one-shoulder shrug. "I don't know, but he has a right to know what we're doing. He deserves that much."

* * *

><p><em>They were both bleeding.<em>

_Chris was sprawled on the floor, his battered body showing the signs of their fight. Prue was on her knees across from him, and though there was blood on her forehead and bruises on her arms and legs, the pain she must have felt did not show in her eyes._

_Instead they were cold, angry._

"_Why are you making me do this?" Prue snarled, her voice dripping with venom. "Why can't you just _leave_? Walk away, Chris. You're good at that."_

"_I can't," Chris said, shaking his head and crawling to his hands and knees. He looked past her, towards the door she was defending, towards the room that he knew was beyond it. "I can't let Wyatt do this. I can't let him continue to kill."_

"_He's protecting us," Prue protested. "He'd be protecting you, too, if you would just _let_ him."_

"_I can't!" Chris cried furiously. "How can you not see it? How can you not see what he's become?"_

_Prue rose to her feet. "Of course I see it," she snarled back. "Of course I see what he's become!"_

_Chris reeled back, eyes widening at her words, at her admission. "You... what...?" he whispered._

"_You act like the world was this perfect place before Wyatt turned! It _wasn't_, Chris. Do you remember that? Do you remember how it was harsh and cruel? Do you remember how you fell to your knees beside Aunt Piper when she died? Do you remember how you couldn't stop screaming? Because _I_ remember that. And I remember stumbling over my own mother's dead body and seeing my father die protecting me! Have you let your hatred of Wyatt's regime blind you to what the world used to be like? Are you really so determined to remember it all with rose-tinted glasses that you've convinced yourself to _forget_?"_

_Chris clambered to his feet as well. "I remember," he said painfully. He remembered all too well._

"_You call Wyatt evil, and then he says evil doesn't exist and all that matters is power and our choices. Don't you see that it isn't that simple? He is trying to protect all of us. He is trying to keep us alive, keep us together. And I want that. I don't want my family to _die_!"_

"_The methods matter, Prue!"_

"_Don't talk to me about _methods_! The Cleaners could have just cleaned up the mess the first time magic was exposed, but they didn't. Our mothers had to go to a demon for help, and Aunt Prue died because of it. The Elders continually separated Uncle Leo from Aunt Piper and you and Wyatt. Grandpa's going to die from lung cancer soon and let me guess… the Elders won't let any of your white-lighter allies heal him because it isn't a magical ailment? And all of this was for what? The Greater Good? So their methods are acceptable… right?" She stopped, took a deep breath as though willing herself to calm down. "My mother died and the carpet turned red underneath her and her blood spread onto my clothing and my skin, and we still continued to fight the good fight. And we still continued to die." She stopped again, shook her head. "I'm _tired_, Chris," she said. "I just want us to be safe. I just want us to survive."_

_Chris tensed, pulling his magic to the forefront, ready to fight, as he replied, "My mother died for what she believed in, Prue. She died to protect this world, and I won't trample all over her memory by allowing her oldest son to destroy it. Do you really think I've _forgotten _her sacrifice? I'm fighting now because I _remember_."_

_Prue stared at him for a long moment, then asked, "Are you wiling to kill Wyatt in Aunt Piper's name?"_

* * *

><p>Chris awoke with a jolt and sat stiffly upright, his eyes scanning the room quickly, looking for danger.<p>

"Chris… Chris. Easy, it's just me," a voice said, and Chris blinked and focused on the woman crouching down next to him.

"Paige…" he said numbly.

"Are you alright?" Paige asked worriedly. "You looked…" She paused for a moment, searching for the right words, and then said, "It looked like you were having a nightmare."

Chris shook his head. "I'm fine," he said, struggling to force away the remnants of the dream. The memory.

He swung his legs over the side of the sofa and stood up, backing away from Paige. His attempt to get some sleep had not worked out particularly well, but that was hardly a surprise. Still, the nightmare was more vividly painful than usual, and he could still see his cousin's eyes staring at him accusingly.

He blinked. It wouldn't do to dwell on that. The future would be different – Prue would be different. Everything that had happened would be undone.

He hoped.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Paige, changing the subject in an attempt to think of something besides the future.

Paige looked nonplussed by his businesslike attitude, but answered, "Piper, Phoebe, and I are going to talk to Ava. She's a Gypsy. We thought maybe she could help us figure out what to do about Lucifer." She stopped, and Chris waited for her to say something else.

She didn't.

He sighed. "So?" he prompted.

"Do you want to be there for it?" Paige asked.

Chris automatically opened his mouth to refuse. There were so many reasons he could give – this was a waste of time, he had other things he needed to do before he disappeared, Lucifer couldn't be stopped – but they would all be lies. He knew his main reason for wanting to avoid this, wanting to avoid _them_. He didn't want to hear Piper's harsh accusations, and even more than that didn't want to hear her apologies.

But he paused before the words could be formed. His emotions had gotten the better of him more than once since his return, but he had to ignore them, had to push them aside. He had to do whatever was necessary to protect the future – including keeping the Charmed Ones from doing something stupid enough to get themselves killed.

"Fine," he said slowly, inwardly wincing at the very idea of joining the sisters but all the same knowing he didn't have much of a choice.

Paige looked momentarily surprised, but recovered quickly. "Great," she said, her tone just a little bit too cheerful, and Chris knew she had been expecting him to refuse. 'Well, come on then."

Chris braced himself for the awkward conversation he knew would follow his arrival at the Manor, then orbed.

He reappeared in the kitchen. Phoebe was sitting at the table with a woman that Chris didn't recognize, and Piper was standing by the tea kettle, leaning against the counter as she waited for the water to boil. All three sets of eyes focused on Paige and Chris as they orbed in, and everything fell quiet.

The strange woman was the first to break the tense silence. "You must be Chris," she said, standing up and extending her hand towards him. "I'm Ava."

He walked over to her, reaching out to politely shake her hand. She smiled and he forced himself to return it, though he could tell that the smile did not fool her. There was something sad in her expression as she studied him.

"Paige," Ava said, turning towards the youngest Charmed One, "so good to see you again."

"And you," Paige said, hugging Ava. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," Ava said. "Piper an Phoebe were just filling me in on some more details. I was able to discuss this briefly with my clan's elders before coming over, and I have to admit, our knowledge of Lucifer is somewhat limited. He doesn't come up much in our lore."

"Not much is known about him, and a lot of what is out there isn't even true," Chris said. "But since the most complete set of knowledge about him is probably at Magic School and the Elders aren't going to let us in there, anything you've got is better than what we have."

The water boiled and the tea kettle emitted a screeching noise. Chris turned towards it, and for the briefest moment, he and Piper locked gazes. Her eyes immediately filled with tears and he felt the almost uncontrollable desire to yell at her.

How dare _she_ be the one in tears when it was _his_ existence that was in jeopardy? He was the one who had given up everything for Wyatt – for the future. Why did _she_ get to grieve?

His anger must have shown on his face because she flinched away from him and reached for the kettle. She poured the water quickly, and Chris noted that she was using tea leaves.

"Make sure to give one to Chris," Ava instructed. "I can read his leaves when he's done."

"I'd rather not," Chris snapped. Ava raised her eyebrows, surprised by his outburst. He was surprised by it, too, though it arose from well-founded fear. Anyone who read his tea leaves would know details about him that he tried to keep hidden, details that could be used against him. The defensive paranoia that flared inside of him was something that had kept him alive in the future, but he knew – logically, at least – that he wasn't in the same sort of danger here.

"I'm not asking to pry into your secrets," Ava said pointedly.

"Then why do you want to read the leaves?" Chris demanded, the words slipping out before he could think through them. He needed to stop – needed to ignore this fear. Needed to get his emotions under control. He shouldn't be so blatantly lashing out at a supposed ally.

Next to him, Paige bristled. "Chris, really…" she started, but Chris cut her off.

"What?" he asked. "What is so wrong about not wanting complete strangers to read my secrets? Why does she need them, anyway? So she can share them with all of you?"

"There might be something useful there," Ava cut in. Chris gave her a skeptical look, and she elaborated, "You fate is closely tied to Leo's fate. If there is something there, something that can lead us to Leo… to Lucifer…"

Chris expelled a breath, unable to argue with her logic. "Right," he said ungraciously. "Fine."

Piper handed him a cup of tea. He took it, swirling the liquid around for a few minutes, then glanced over at Ava as he took a sip of the scalding liquid.

Ava sat back down at the table and said, "There is one thing that I thought was interesting. Maybe even useful."

"About Lucifer?" Piper asked eagerly.

Ava nodded. "There's a legend of a priestess that battled a being similar to Lucifer," she said. "All powerful, pure evil, never lied. They called him Amnari."

"Did she win?" Phoebe asked.

"Not exactly," Ava admitted reluctantly. "He tormented most of her family, and eventually they all turned on each other. There was a great battle and nearly everyone died. But the priestess was able to save herself and her daughter."

"How?" Chris asked curiously, taking another sip of his tea. He hadn't heard of this story; his knowledge of Lucifer was limited.

"That is where the details get rather vague," Ava replied.

Chris rolled his eyes and muttered, "Of course it is."

"What the legend says is that she got Amnari to stop coming after her by causing enough problems for him that he was willing to deal."

"What kind of problems?" Piper asked skeptically. Chris knew what she was thinking without her having to vocalize it – they had tried to cause problems for Lucifer and it hadn't done any good. What could this priestess have done to succeed where they had failed?

"I don't know," Ava replied. "As I said, the details were vague. Do any of you know enough about Lucifer to know what he would consider a problem?"

Chris took a gulp of his tea as he contemplated that question. The tea was still too hot, and it burned his tongue and the back of his throat. His eyes started watering almost immediately, and he rubbed at them with the back of one hand.

"There's no rush to finish the tea," Paige said jokingly.

Chris rolled his eyes, gaze sliding sideways to Ava. "I know," he muttered sourly.

Phoebe narrowed her eyes at him speculatively, and he quickly slammed what remained of his ruined mental barriers back into place. It wouldn't be enough to keep all his emotions hidden, but hopefully Phoebe would get the hint and stay out of his mind.

Not that the sisters were exactly known for respecting people's privacy. Actually, no one in the Halliwell family had ever been known for that.

At that thought, he furrowed his brow and said, "Betrayal."

"What?" Piper asked sharply, looking over at him.

"What Lucifer would consider a problem," Chris explained, "is betrayal. His allies turning on him."

"Are you sure?" Paige questioned.

Chris nodded, and didn't elaborate. He didn't want to even consider how he knew that answer, let alone be forced to say it aloud.

Betrayal was what Lucifer did, what he excelled at. Getting people to turn on each other, tearing at the bonds that should have held them together…

And Lucifer inspired an almost unheard of loyalty among demons, warlocks, and dark lighters, so getting anyone to turn on him was next to impossible. In some ways, that was part of Lucifer's aura of power, part of what made him the incredible danger that he was; he never had to worry about his own side turning on him.

For someone to successfully turn an ally against him… it would undermine his credibility as the silver-tongued embodiment of evil. It would undermine his authority.

Lucifer would make a deal to stop it.

And part of that deal would necessarily be that his opponent could never tell anyone about it because Lucifer couldn't take the risk that Good would figure out his weakness. That was why the details of the story were so vague – the priestess had never told anyone how she succeeded.

Piper was still staring at Chris, but without suspicion in her eyes. He'd half-expected it, just like he'd expected an accusation or a demand for explanations. But Piper seemed content to accept his answer and not press him for details… at least not yet.

For which Chris was absurdly thankful.

He didn't like thinking about how much Lucifer reminded him of Wyatt.

The one and only time Chris had ever succeeded in getting Wyatt to make a deal with the Resistance – a temporary truce that really only lasted long enough for the witches and mortals to recover from a horrific battle – was after Chris had convinced the Phoenix clan to betray the Twice Blessed.

Chris took another sip of tea. It was cooler this time, so he drained the entire cup.

Ava reached out to take the cup from him at the same time that Phoebe said, "The only ally we know of is Lola. And she's not going to turn on him."

"Maybe we just haven't thought of the right method yet," Piper retorted. "We need to convince her that Lucifer is using her. That he doesn't care about her."

"For all we know, he does care about her," Chris pointed out as he watched Ava. The Gypsy was studying his tea leaves with a frown on her features and he didn't like the look of sympathy and pain in her eyes.

This was a bad idea. It wasn't like the tea leaves were going to have anything good to say.

Ava gave a startled gasp and put the cup down.

"What is it?" Piper asked urgently.

Ava shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry… it's just… I see a battle. A big one."

"And I'm a part of the battle?" Chris asked quietly. That didn't seem like something to be so upset about. He'd been part of battles before. In fact, he spent years doing nothing but fighting.

Again, Ava shook her head. "You're the trigger," she said. "You're what finally starts everything."

Chris didn't like the sound of that.

Apparently neither did Piper. "Maybe there is more than one way to interpret the leaves?" she suggested. "Maybe it's vague… like the premonitions Phoebe gets. We don't get all the details, just that one moment in time, and sometimes there is more to the story that we don't know…"

Ava might have replied, but Chris wasn't listening. His gaze snapped to Piper's face and then swung slowly to Phoebe. "The premonition," he said with an abrupt realization.

"What?" Phoebe asked. "What premonition?"

"The premonition you had of Lola being vanquished," Chris replied, thinking aloud. "Lucifer told me he sent it to you. He said he needed to get you involved somehow, and that seemed the easiest way."

"So?" Paige prompted. "He planted a fake premonition. What about it?"

But Chris shook his head. "It wasn't fake," he said. All three sisters stared at him uncomprehendingly, and he explained, "Lucifer can't lie. That also means he can't send _fake_ premonitions. He can only plant real ones."

"So the premonition Phoebe received was real," Piper said slowly. She looked at Chris. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Chris said, "that Lucifer is setting Lola up to die."

* * *

><p>"<em>Come back to the Resistance with me, Prue," Chris begged. "Please… I can help you. I can keep you safe."<em>

_But Prue shook her head. "We made our choices a long time ago, Chris. We picked sides." The weariness was evident in every line of her face, but so was the determination._

_And she was standing between him and his goal._

_He looked past her, and she turned her head as well, following his gaze. The room. Inside it, the potion vial. Inside the potion vial…_

"_You're really going to do it," Chris whispered hoarsely. "You're really going to release that. You're going to take the potion vial and smash it…"_

_Chris shuddered to think of what Wyatt had created. How many innocent people would die when that potion was released? Potions weren't even supposed to work like that, weren't supposed to _infect_ people, weren't supposed to spread, but Wyatt had managed to twist it, change it. He'd used his magic, his power, to create something that would destroy so much…_

_And Chris knew he had to stop it, had to stop Wyatt… _

_Had to stop Prue._

_He was bruised and battered and bleeding and it was his family he was fighting, but it didn't matter. He had to do this._

_For the Greater Good._

_He waved his hand but Prue blocked the telekinetic attack and countered with one of her own. She'd inherited more than just premonitions from her mother, and she kicked Chris twice in the chest before he was able to get away from her. He retaliated with a telekinetic shove that knocked her off balance and she fell, but caught herself and rolled away._

"_Prue, please…" Chris begged again, knowing it was useless but having to do it all the same._

_Prue wiped the blood from her lips and launched herself at him. They collided and he hit the wall. The breath was knocked from his lungs and he gasped for oxygen even as Prue rolled off of him and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to his chest._

_He blocked it – barely. He threw her backwards and she hit the floor, crying out in pain as her arm twisted under her._

"_Don't do this," Chris pleaded._

"_If I don't, Wyatt will," Prue answered, forcing out the words through clenched teeth. "This is pointless, Chris. Even if you take this vial, Wyatt will just make another."_

_Chris knew that. He also knew that he was the better potion maker, and if he could just see what was in this potion, he could make a potion to counter it. He might not have Wyatt's power, but with the power of all the witches in the Resistance combined, they could stop this._

_He hoped._

_Prue was back on her feet… and she had an athame in her hand._

_Everything happened quickly – too quickly – and it would forever haunt Chris that he couldn't remember the exact details. It was a blur – only just clear enough for him to know what he had done._

_She launched herself at him once more and he dodged, but she turned with him and then the athame was slicing through his skin, leaving a long gash that ran from his right shoulder down across his chest. Shallow enough that he wouldn't die right away, deep enough that he _would_ die without medical attention. He knocked the athame from her hand and their fingers met, there was a clatter of metal as the ceremonial knife hit the floor, and then they were both falling._

_Chris' fingers closed on the hilt of the athame and then Prue's own hand was at his throat, and she had another athame – where did they keep coming from? – and the cold metal was pressed against his skin, drawing blood, and Prue…_

_Prue was crying._

_And Chris stabbed her in the chest._

Chris didn't know what had woken him from the dream, but he was thankful for it. He didn't want to think about that day, didn't want to remember Prue's lifeless body or his own blood-covered hands. He'd killed her to save the world…

And he still wasn't entirely sure it had been worth it.

It was a memory he carried with him everywhere, just as he carried with him the memory of the few days after Prue's death. Bianca's look – silent and understanding. His Aunt Paige's shocked expression and the way her eyes had hardened moments later. Grandpa's choked sob and the way he quickly hid the tears, not wanting anyone to see.

And Darius' words. Darius, one of the few Elders left. Darius, one of the de facto leaders of the Resistance. Darius, who hated Bianca and half the time didn't even trust that Chris wouldn't betray them all to Wyatt. Darius, who had become so hardened by the war that Chris sometimes struggled to see the good left in him.

Darius, who healed Chris' injuries and helped make the counter potion and would later sacrificed his life to save several innocent children being hunted by demons.

Darius, who had looked at a grieving, heartbroken, guilt-ridden Chris and said matter-of-factly _If you can kill Prudence, then you can kill Wyatt, too._

_I can't. I can't do this again_, Chris had thought, but he hadn't said it.

Chris didn't even remember falling asleep, but the exhaustion must have snuck up on him. He had been sitting at the table in the back room of P3, going over his notes on Lola, trying to figure out if his plan had any chance of working. He must have knocked the notes over in his sleep, because they were scattered about, and many had drifted to the floor.

He reached down to grab them, and it was then that he caught sight of his hands.

And he froze.

His hands were transparent.

He had run out of time.


	15. Loyalties

Chapter Thirteen: Loyalties

It turned out that having transparent hands didn't mean that his hands were _gone_. They were still there, still solid. Just… see-through.

This was of little comfort to Chris, however. And it was of even less comfort to Piper.

The moment Chris orbed into the attic, the eldest Charmed One zeroed in on his hands. Chris supposed this shouldn't have surprised him, but he wasn't ready for the panic that leapt into her eyes. She reached out and grabbed him, fingers closing around his arm, and for a moment both of them forgot the strain and tension that still existed between them.

Piper was the first to remember, and she dropped her arm quickly and looked away. "We don't have a lot of time," she said, "so let's do this."

Paige was standing at the Book, and though her gaze lingered for a moment on Chris' hands, she nodded in agreement and said, "Everything's ready."

"Say the spell," Piper ordered tersely.

Chris wasn't paying much attention. His thoughts were already on the sorceress that they were summoning, on what he was supposed to say to her. He knew Lola far better than any of the others did, but that didn't mean he knew much about her at all. She wasn't trustworthy, and her honeyed words had gotten under his skin more times than he liked to admit.

He closed his eyes and drew a breath. She was a seductress, so he forced thoughts of Bianca to the front of his mind, desperately hoping that holding onto memories of the Phoenix would keep him safe from Lola's charms.

He doubted it would work.

Paige must have recited the spell, because the room was suddenly filled with a rush of wind and Chris snapped his eyes open in time to see Lola materialize in the center of the attic.

Phoebe dropped the final crystal into place, forming a cage around the sorceress.

Lola frowned, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Chris. They travelled up and down the length of his body, pausing for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary on his transparent hands. Then Lola looked down at the crystals and gave a tired sigh.

"This again?" she asked skeptically, slanting a somewhat amused look at Piper. "Haven't we been here before? I don't recall it ending particularly well for you."

Piper smirked at the challenge in Lola's words. "Well, let's see what happens at the end of round two," she replied.

"You can't torture information out of me," Lola stated simply. Her eyes darted sideways to Chris and she smiled icily. "And sooner or later, Lucifer will send some demons to rescue me."

"I'm sure he will," Chris agreed calmly, matching her smile with one of his own. "After all, he can't have you die now, can he? You have to stay alive long enough to be vanquished in the back room of P3."

A single razor-thin eyebrow rose questioningly.

"Did he give you a choice, or did he just tell you that you were going to die?" Chris asked, folding his arms over his chest and trying to ignore the _lightness_ that was seeping up his arms. The rest of him was fading away, too, it seemed. Piper stifled a gasp at the sight of his arms growing transparent, but Chris ignored her and continued, "How did you take it when you found out?"

Lola furrowed her brow, then asked pointedly, "Do you really think you can manipulate me with lies, white-lighter?"

It was Phoebe who answered before Chris had a chance to reply, "Do you really think he's lying?" Lola switched her gaze to the empath, and Phoebe shrugged. "At least it was quick, I can tell you that much. You went up in flames and then it was over. I suppose Lucifer _would_ want to spare you the pain."

Lola curled her lip. "You don't know the first thing about Lucifer's plans," she said.

"Well, you're right about that," Phoebe agreed. "We _don't_ know what Lucifer has planned. We don't know how this ends. But what do you care? You won't be around to see it."

Lola rolled her eyes at Phoebe's words and said disdainfully, "So this is your final pathetic attempt to beat the devil at his own game? I'd rather hoped for something a bit more… _exciting_… from the three of you."

"We're offering you a way out," Paige said, her words tinged with annoyance. "If you don't work with us, you _will_ die. Lucifer's premonition will come true; it _has_ to. If you help us, we can save you."

"I thought you just said the premonition _had_ to come true," Lola scoffed.

"I might have a way around that," Phoebe said with a smug smile.

"I don't believe you," Lola answered firmly. She held Phoebe's gaze unflinchingly, refusing to be swayed.

"She's not going to tell us anything," Chris said after a moment of silence. He turned to Piper. "She doesn't believe Lucifer would really use her like this. She'll take his secrets to the grave. Or the ash pile, as the case may be."

Piper heaved a sigh. "Maybe we should just vanquish her right now," she suggested wearily. "We'll need to make up a potion, though."

Paige held up a potion bottle clutched tightly in one hand and said, "Not a problem. Already done."

"Maybe you should take her to P3 first," Phoebe said. "That is where the premonition took place. If we try to vanquish her here, she might get lucky and escape…"

"I'm not falling for this," Lola said defiantly, but Chris saw the flicker of unease in her eyes.

"I really don't care if you believe it or not," Piper answered flatly. "Lucifer sent Phoebe a premonition of your death. He can't lie – his premonitions can't lie. So you're going to die, and quite frankly, I'd rather we just do this at P3 so we can at least be guaranteed to get it right. My life will be a lot easier without you in it."

"It won't help you get to Lucifer, though," Lola countered.

Piper took a step forward and her voice dropped to a dangerously venomous whisper. "Lucifer has taken away _everything_ I care about. My husband. My son. He's trying to ruin my family, and you're _helping_ him. So maybe this won't help me stop Lucifer. Maybe this won't help me save Chris or Leo. Maybe I _can't_ save them. But I _can_ make you pay for your part in this, sorceress. And believe me, _I am going to do it_."

Lola stared at her impassively, but the pure hatred and determination in Piper's voice sent chills down Chris' spine.

"And then what will you do?" Lola taunted, eyes glittering malevolently. "Bury your husband and son? Oh, wait… you won't have bodies for either of them, so you won't even be able to do that."

"Piper, don't listen to her," Phoebe warned quickly, hurrying to Piper's side. "She's just trying to hurt you."

"Oh, Charmed One, I am doing nothing of the kind," Lola answered, laughing softly. "I'm just telling the truth. The fact that the truth hurts… well, that's hardly _my_ fault. The truth _is_ painful."

"Shut up," Piper snarled.

"Of course, it isn't really a surprise that you don't get a body to bury," Lola continued smoothly. "After all… you're not exactly mother of the year."

Chris saw Piper take a shuddering breath and wasn't sure if she was trying to hold back her fury or her pain. It didn't really matter, though. Lola had gotten under her skin, and it would only be a matter of time before Piper snapped.

"Piper…" Chris murmured apprehensively, tensing worriedly.

Smiling gleefully, Lola twisted the metaphorical knife just a little bit deeper into the wound, "What kind of mother lets one son trade himself for another? What kind of mother is _relieved_ when that happens?"

"_Shut up_!" Piper cried.

"Piper, come on…" Phoebe said, grabbing Piper's arm and dragging her backwards, away from the crystal cage. "Just ignore her."

"Oh, but you _can't_ ignore me," Lola whispered. "I'm just saying aloud all those thoughts that have been circling around your head ever since you found out who your future white-lighter really is."

"What kind of demon gives her loyalty to a being that is willing to sacrifice her at a moment's notice?" Paige challenged, putting herself between Lola and Piper. "Or did you not even _know_ what Lucifer was going to do? Did you not see it coming?"

"Did he not tell you?" Phoebe added.

Lola laughed spitefully, her gaze never once leaving Piper's face. "Oh, but my end will come quickly whereas you, Piper Halliwell… you will live a long and healthy life… and you will spend _all of it_ haunted by what you did. And even in the afterlife, even as a ghost… you'll know that your precious son doesn't exist anymore… because _you_ failed him. Just like you failed your oldest by allowing him to turn _evil_. Just like you failed your older sister by allowing her to _die_. All you do is fail to save the ones you love. _All you do is cause them pain_."

"How dare you!" Piper snarled, breaking free of Phoebe's grasp and pushing past Paige. She kicked one of the crystals away, breaking the cage, and seized Lola by the arms. "I will _kill_ you," she spat. "And I will laugh while I'm doing it."

"Piper, look out!" Paige cried, but it was too late. Lola flung her arms wide, breaking Piper's grip, and shimmered out of the attic before anyone could stop her.

There was a moment of complete silence.

Then Paige said in awe, "It _worked_."

Piper was breathing heavily as she stepped away from the broken crystal cage. It took her a moment to calm down, and then she said in a rational tone, "It only works if she does what we want her to do." Her gaze moved to Chris. "Do you think she bought it?"

Chris nodded once, but didn't vocalize his thoughts.

He knew Lola well enough to know that when she realized she was trapped, she'd do everything in her power to trick them into freeing her. He had known Lola would pick Piper – the eldest Charmed One's emotional turmoil was rolling off of her in great waves, and that made her the easiest to manipulate. All Lola had to do was enrage Piper enough for her to lose her cool, and one way or another, that crystal cage would come down.

Chris knew this – had been counting on it.

And now…

For his plan to work, Lola had to believe that her escape was an accident, that they had not intended to let her go. For this to work, Lola had to believe that Piper's actions had not been part of a carefully calculated plot. Chris had been worried about that, had been worried that Lola would see through it. But he was now fairly certain that she hadn't…

Because he was fairly certain that Piper had meant every word she'd said. That anger, that fury, that pain… that hadn't been a trick. That had been _real_.

When devising this plan, he hadn't been entirely sure that the sisters would be able to play their roles as well as they needed to. It wasn't that he doubted their skills – but they hadn't lived in his world, they hadn't been forced to survive in a future where lying to save lives was an everyday occurrence. They didn't have the kind of experience he had.

And for this to work, Lola had to believe that the sisters would eagerly get rid of her unless she offered them something they could use against Lucifer.

But staring at Piper now, Chris realized that his concerns had been ill-founded. Piper didn't _need_ to be good at lying to do this. Piper _wasn't_ lying. That fury, that desperate rage… that was all completely real. If she could do nothing else, she could at least make Lola pay for what had happened.

"Now what?" Paige asked, breaking into Chris' thoughts.

"Lola will come to me," Chris said, "when I'm alone. I'll talk to her, get the information we need… Just make sure you three are ready with the reinforcements when it is time to go."

"We'll be ready," Piper promised, her words pure steel. "We'll be ready."

* * *

><p>Lola came sooner than Chris had expected. He was alone at P3 when she shimmered into the club. He heard her enter before he saw her, and tensed in anticipation.<p>

She stepped out of the shadows. "If I betray Lucifer," she said, "he will kill me. So even if you really do have some plan to keep that premonition from coming true, it won't do any good. It won't do _me_ any good."

Chris smiled. "And what if I had a way around _that_, too?"

Lola shook her head slowly. "Impossible," she answered. "You _can't_ beat Lucifer, Christopher."

"If you really thought it was impossible, you wouldn't be here," Chris countered, spreading his arms wide. "You wouldn't be looking for a solution."

Lola pursed her lips. She didn't respond, but instead turned away from Chris and ran her hands over her skirt as though to smooth out invisible wrinkles. The bracelets on her wrists jingled together at the movement, and the sound echoed through the otherwise silent room.

"What is the solution?" Lola asked finally. "How would you stop the premonition from coming true?" She glanced over her shoulder at Chris, a smirk touching her lips as she added, "And do I need to sell my soul for it?"

"You don't have a soul," Chris replied flatly.

A hint of amusement crept into Lola's eyes. "Still no sense of humor," she said, shaking her head. "Pity."

"Premonitions appear for two reasons," Chris said, ignoring the comment. "Either to foreshadow something that is inevitable or to give warning for an event that can be changed."

Lola rested her hands on her hips. "Spare me the lecture on magical theory, white-lighter," she drawled. "I understand it better than you do. Or have you forgotten that I've been alive for centuries before you were even a glimmer in your mother's eye…?" She trailed off, then added with a malicious smile and a quick glance towards his transparent hands, "Of course, you won't ever be a glimmer in her eye now, will you?"

"Are you really arrogant enough to continue mocking me when you know you need my help?" Chris demanded.

It was a rhetorical question, of course, and he knew the answer. Lola _was_ that arrogant, and her pride would hardly allow her to stop needling him. But more than that, this was simply the type of being she was – one who took great pleasure in reminding others of their pain.

Lola sidled up to him and ran her fingers along his arm. His skin tingled where she had touched it as though some sort of electricity – of chemistry – crackled between them. "Are you really so tense that even in the face of nonexistence you can't bring yourself to enjoy a second of relaxation?" she murmured.

Chris stepped away from her. "Do you want my help or not?"

Lola studied him, then said simply, "Would I be here if I didn't want your help?" She turned away again. "You think this is a premonition of something that can be changed."

"Just because Lucifer planted it doesn't mean it is inevitable," Chris replied. "It was true at the time he planted it, but Phoebe got the premonition and therefore _she_ has the ability to change it. That is how most premonitions work, isn't it?"

"A premonition is considered true until it is changed," Lola said slowly, clearly thinking through the implications of Chris' plan. "The only way premonitions can be changed is by a set of actions initiated by the person who received the premonition. Phoebe tells her sisters, starting the chain reaction. Now they are offering to save me. But the premonition is still true because I haven't been saved yet – and it was true at the time is was planted – so it doesn't violate Lucifer's rules." She frowned skeptically. "That seems like semantics."

Chris shrugged. "The devil is good with semantics. We can be good with them, too."

Lola hesitated, then countered, "Following that theory, someone would actually have to try to vanquish me. And not just for show… they'd have to _mean_ it."

Chris laughed. "I think _that_ can be arranged," he said.

Lola considered this, then raised her eyebrows. "And what would I have to do in return?"

* * *

><p>It would have been better if they'd had more time. Chris <em>knew<em> that, but there was very little he could do about it. The feeling of lightness had spread up his arms and into the rest of his body, and although most of him wasn't yet transparent, he knew he probably didn't have much longer.

He orbed into the kitchen of the Manor to find Piper talking to a wood nymph. A dwarf was sitting on a chair at the table, swinging his legs back and forth and holding the handle of a large axe. A leprechaun was standing next to the dwarf, apparently trying to engage him in conversation, but the dwarf was determinedly ignoring his companion.

Chris found himself biting back a smile at the sight. Over the years, the Manor had witnessed many strange and sometimes even unbelievable events. In the future, even before Wyatt's fall, meetings like this were common place.

But he had never gotten used to it. There was still something strange about finding himself surrounded by mythical creatures, even after a little over two decades of living among them.

Piper turned away from her conversation and met his gaze steadily. He saw, reflected in her eyes, his own anxiety about this plan. But he saw the determination, too. The refusal to back down from a fight, the determination to see this through until the very end.

Something inside him twisted painfully. For a moment, she had looked so much like his mother.

He pushed away the thought and the convoluted emotions that accompanied it, and asked, "Ready?"

Piper nodded.

"The Elders aren't happy about this," the dwarf grumbled, shooting Chris an annoyed look. "You couldn't have come up with a plan that didn't get them mad at us?"

"He's trying to save the future," Piper snapped back, defending Chris before he had a chance to say anything. "The Elders should be on our side."

Her tone was dripping with disgust, and Chris found himself nodding in agreement even as he silently noted that her words weren't entirely truthful. He'd _already_ saved the future – or, at least, that was what he hoped. Now he was just trying to save himself. And her.

That was what it really all came down to. Saving Piper. He had reconciled himself to an eternity in hell. He had almost reconciled himself to the possibility of not existing. But Piper hadn't accepted either of those outcomes, and giving in would destroy her.

While she was fighting so desperately to save him, he was now fighting just as hard to save her.

It was ironic.

He curled his hand into a fist and looked away. He didn't _want_ to be saving her. He didn't want to be responsible for her happiness. He'd already put too heavy a burden on his shoulders once, but he'd been willing to carry the weight of the world then.

He wasn't sure he was still willing to carry that burden now. He was tired – was he _too_ tired? Was this feeling of exhaustion creeping through his bones just a side effect of the fact that he was very close to disappearing all together, or was it a sign of something more?  
>Was it is a sign of how much he just wanted this to <em>end<em>?

He was tired of having to deal with the sisters and their suspicion and their questions and their prying. He was tired of Lucifer, of Lola, of the Elders. He was tired of hearing Wyatt's voice mocking him, of seeing Bianca's lifeless eyes, of feeling Prue's blood on his hands. He was tired of the memories of bruises that had long since healed and scars that had almost faded.

He was tired of being so close to the people that should have been his family and yet still feeling so very far away from home.

"Chris?" Piper said gently, stepping towards him.

He shook his head to banish the weariness that refused to leave him alone and fixed her with an impassive stare.

"We're ready," she said. "Are you?"

Chris nodded once, then fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took it, scanned it once, then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the garbage.

She walked slowly towards the door, the three mythological creatures following her. She hesitated, wavering for a moment, before turning back towards him. There were no tears in her eyes, no pain or grief in her expression. Her features were calm, and there was a look of resignation in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know you don't want to hear that. I know… I know you don't like apologies. I don't know why, but…" She looked down, gathering her thoughts, before raising her eyes to him one last time. "I _am_ sorry."

Then she walked from the kitchen, the others following her, and Chris was left alone.

"Good luck," he whispered to the empty room.

It was a simple enough plan. Paige and Phoebe had spent most of the last few hours contacting every magical creature they had ever helped and asking for help in return. Many had flatly refused – the Elders had anticipated that the Charmed Ones might do something like this and had forbidden the magical world to help in any attack against Lucifer.

But not everyone had refused. The Elders hadn't counted on that – or perhaps they just hadn't understood it. Perhaps it had been so long since any of them had been human that they had forgotten what it was like to be mortal, to be in danger, to be scared and hurt and helpless. Maybe they'd forgotten the kinds of bonds that can form with the people who save you.

But the magical creatures remembered. They remembered the times demons had attacked, the times their lives had been threatened, their homes destroyed, their friends and family killed.

They remembered every time the Charmed Ones had saved them.

And they remembered what Leo had done for the entire world during the Titans' attack.

Chris walked over to the table and sank into one of the chairs.

Wyatt, too, had remembered this. Before it had become clear just how far he had fallen, he had managed to unite many of the magical community behind him – and against the Elders and anyone else who stood in his way – by reminding them all of what his family had risked, and ultimately sacrificed, to protect them. He'd built himself an army of Good creatures, and only after they started abandoning him had he begun recruiting demons.

But Chris didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about how dangerously close this plan came to being something Wyatt would approve of. Manipulations, defiance, lies… But it was all for the Greater Good.

Right?

The army of magical creatures that the Charmed Ones had managed to gather would start attacking Lucifer's demons. Every time Lucifer tried to work with a demon or demonic clan, Lola would report the information and the Charmed Ones and their allies would be there to vanquish the enemies in question. Every time Lucifer tried to make a deal, Lola would report it and the Charmed Ones would stop the deal if possible.

But the plan relied on _time_. Time enough for Lucifer to realize that he had been betrayed. It would take him a while to know it was Lola. Her method of communicating with Chris by sending him scraps of paper with the names of demons on it would at least keep her free from the initial suspicion.

But once Lucifer figured out who it was, once he realized just how thoroughly she had betrayed him, how many of his demonic minions she had gotten vanquished, how many of his deals she had stopped…

He would be desperate to make sure that this betrayal did not become common knowledge, and he would come to the Charmed Ones with a deal just like he had in the gypsy legend.

Now all they had to do was wait.

Chris looked down at his transparent hands. This plan relied on time – and he didn't have much left.

Even if they succeeded at saving Leo, it might be too late to save him.

"Please," he whispered, not entirely sure who he was praying to, "if I disappear… let them forget. Don't let Piper remember me, don't let her remember that she couldn't save me. Let them forget that I ever existed at all."

* * *

><p>"Chris?" Piper called the moment they orbed into the Manor. She was covered in mud and dirt and her clothes were stained with blood and singed by fire, but none of that mattered because they had just wiped out three different demonic clans – <em>simultaneously<em>. And not the kind of clan where vanquishing the king or the leader would destroy all the others. No, this had required tracking down each individual demon and vanquishing it.

She dropped Paige's hand and stepped away from her two sisters. She needed a hot shower and a fresh set of clothes. And an icepack because she was fairly certain her knee had twisted more than it should on that last vanquish. She probably also needed some disinfectant and bandages for all the cuts and scrapes that littered her skin.

Really, she just needed an entire first aid kit.

"Chris!" she called again, already heading for the stairs.

She wasn't sure why they had never considered the idea of creating an army of magical creatures before. She was fairly certain that many of them were pacifists and had only joined this once because of the dire need. And others had no training in fighting at all. But many did – and they were more powerful together than apart.

She shoved open the door to her bedroom. Paige and Phoebe hadn't followed her. She turned, about to call down to them, but then thought better of it. They were both injured, too, and there was no need to start discussing future strategies quite yet.

She glanced at the bed. She hadn't slept well in far too long, plagued by nightmares of Chris and Leo and Lucifer. Her mind gave her no respite from her fears; they only became more vivid and more painful at night.

The problem, she thought idly, might be the bed itself. It was too large for just one person, and every time she rolled over and felt the empty space where Leo used to sleep, it made everything so much worse.

Never mind the fact that Leo hadn't slept there in months.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. She needed to talk to Chris, needed to figure out what to say and how to say it. Apologies were out of the question – she knew she had been lucky to manage the one earlier. She desperately wanted his forgiveness, but that wouldn't happen yet.

But what else could she say? Any conversation about Leo and Lucifer was focused entirely on strategy, and if she tried to bring up the more emotional aspects of it, she knew he would just orb away. Emotions in general were problematic, and talking about them would be treading on thin ice.

Did she bring up their previous conversation about his desire to return to the future? But that was dangerous, too, and she didn't want a repeat of their argument.

Besides, any mention of the future would lead to talk of Wyatt and Wyatt would just turn them back to Lucifer and ultimately Leo.

So what was left? What could she say? How could she convince him she loved him if everything important was off the table?

Something tingled along her spine and she froze. It was a feeling she couldn't quite place, as though her instincts were trying to tell her something. But whatever that something was, it was too vague for her to interpret.

Still… the feeling ran up the length of her spine and settled in her chest, weighing on her. It was pressing down on her heart, making it hard to breath, and filling her with dread. And faint anguish.

Whatever was happening, it wasn't good.

The anguish melted into an emptiness that expanded inside of her. Something was missing, some part of her had been torn away, and she had no idea what it was or how to get it back.

Her heart started racing. What was happening to her?

She inhaled slowly, closing her eyes and focusing on the sound of her breath. She willed her heart rate to return to normal, trying to relax even as she tensed her muscles. She didn't know what this was, but she wanted to be ready for it. All of her senses were open, prepared for anything.

And it was because of this that she felt the energy in the air and was already rising to her feet and turning towards the source as the figure appeared in front of her.

He was haggard and hunched over. His face was thin, his eyes sunken and shadowed by dark circles. His skin was too pale and his blonde hair flopped about messily. His blue eyes darted around nervously, bewildered.

Then landed on her and she watched as recognition flooded through his expression.

She could barely speak. "Leo?" she whispered, shocked. Hardly even daring to believe.

"Piper," he said hoarsely, stumbling forward. "Piper… I…"

It looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't think of the words. She wanted to say things, too, but the sentences jumbled together in her mind and wouldn't form into anything coherent.

Her body moved of its own accord, and before she knew what was happening, she was kissing him. The rational part of her brain was yelling at her to be careful, to be suspicious, because everything was moving too quickly and Lucifer wasn't supposed to release Leo until the deal had been made, but as the two of them tumbled towards the bed, she decided it didn't really matter.

At least not right now.


	16. Interlude: The Devil's Playground

A/N: This interlude covers a lot. The first part starts during the last chapter, but then it jumps backwards in time, to _In the Aftermath of Hell_ and follows Lucifer's actions all the way up until Leo's return.

Interlude: The Devil's Playground

The Charmed Ones had only been gone for a few hours when Lucifer appeared.

Chris started, tearing his thoughts away from his soon-to-be nonexistence, and narrowed his eyes at the devil. Part of him was relieved for the distraction – anything was better than sitting at the kitchen table counting down the seconds until the end of his life. But the other part of him was instantly suspicious and alert.

What was Lucifer doing here?

The devil took off his sunglasses and set them down on the counter. His blue eyes lingered on Chris for a moment, then he said, "It's really a pity your father didn't have enough common sense to think through his plan before making that deal with me."

Chris felt a sudden rush of pure loathing for the being standing before him. "You knew he wouldn't," he accused. "You knew he'd be desperate enough to get me out of… wherever I was… that he wouldn't think through the consequences of his actions. You were _counting_ on it."

Lucifer smiled coolly. "So what if I was? He's an Elder, Christopher. Of all people, _he_ should have known not to trust me."

"I should have, too," Chris spat, unsure if he was angry at himself or Leo or Lucifer. It didn't really matter, though. He was angry at the entire situation.

But it would be over soon. Maybe he should take some consolation in that, however morbid of a thought it was. It would be over. It would _end_.

"That's quite the array of emotions you've gone through," Lucifer commented dryly. "There was the pain, the anger and fury, the desperation, the denial, and now the exhaustion. Ready to give up?"

Chris wanted to ignore what Lucifer was saying, but he couldn't. Those words cut through him, reminding him of everything he had felt since this had all started.

Things had been simpler in the beginning. He'd honestly thought that Gideon was the biggest enemy, the largest threat, that they would face. But staring into the devil's merrily twinkling blue eyes, he couldn't figure out how he had been that foolish.

"What do you want?" Chris asked. "Or have you just come to gloat?"

"Well, I do enjoy gloating…" Lucifer mused thoughtfully. Then he shook his head. "But no, that's not why I am here." His eyes gleamed with anticipation and Chris tensed immediately. "I'm here to offer you a deal."

"You don't have anything I want," Chris said simply. He climbed to his feet and folded his arms over his chest. He gave the devil a long look, then pushed past him towards the doorway leading out of the kitchen. He was too tired to deal with this.

"I have Leo," Lucifer replied.

Chris paused, turned back. "You're willing to trade for him?" he asked distrustfully. "What's in it for you?"

Lucifer's smile grew into a grin. "What makes you think I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart?" he asked.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Are you?"

"Well… no," Lucifer agreed after a moment's pause. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and eyed Chris for a moment. "I'll trade for you."

"For… _me_?" Chris asked, bewildered. "But… you traded _me_ for _Leo_. Why would you just trade back?" That didn't make any sense, and it didn't sound like Lucifer was going to gain anything from it. But Chris knew that the devil would never make a deal that he didn't profit from, so there was no possible way that this was as simple as it sounded.

Lucifer shrugged. "Does it matter?" he asked.

"_Yes_," Chris said emphatically. He wasn't going to make the same mistake he'd made in the past, the same mistakes the Charmed Ones had been making since Leo first informed them of the devil's involvement. He wasn't going to underestimate Lucifer.

Lucifer laughed in amusement. "You, Christopher, are learning so very, _very_ quickly. Pity it wasn't fast enough to save your family, though." He leaned against the counter idly and said, "And I'm not asking for your soul."

Chris blinked. "Then what do you want?" he demanded.

"The trade I am offering," Lucifer explained, "is Leo's soul for your loyalty."

"My… wait… _what_?" Chris stammered. It took him a moment to think clearly, and then he asked skeptically, "You want me to work for you?"

"I like you," Lucifer said with a shrug. "I may even respect you. You're smart, resourceful, cunning... determined, stubborn. A bit neurotic, but I can work with that. You'd be a useful acquisition."

Chris bristled at the word _acquisition_, at the implication that he was something to be bought and sold. But that emotion was soon brushed aside in favor of a more powerful one: utter incomprehension. Lucifer couldn't lie. Everything he had said was true – including the fact that he liked Chris. _Respected_ him.

He wasn't sure if he should be flattered or disgusted to have the devil's respect.

He frowned for a moment, contemplating the attributes the devil had listed. Resourceful and cunning. He _was_ resourceful and cunning.

His plan relied on time, but he didn't have that. But Lucifer was here, now, and if he didn't have time then maybe he could at least take advantage of what he did have.

Knowledge.

It wasn't ideal. In fact, showing his cards now might very well ruin everything. But if he played it right, it could also fix everything. It was a gamble, though… And did he really think that saving his existence was worth the risk of losing everything he had just fought to save?

Well, he wouldn't lose Wyatt. He wouldn't lose the saved future. That was something.

"It isn't as though joining me is going to cause Piper or her sisters any more pain than they will experience once you cease to exist," Lucifer said. "She'd rather you alive and evil than not alive at all."

Knowing Piper, Chris reflected grimly, that was entirely true. At least right now. The Piper that had eventually become Chris' mother was different – but the entire family was different in the future. Life had hardened them, but it had also given them more understanding and insight. It was an odd combination of traits, but he had grown accustomed to it over the years.

Until his mother died.

"But I would make up my mind quickly if I were you, Christopher," Lucifer continued, breaking into Chris' thoughts. "Because you're running out of time."

Chris closed his eyes. He hadn't told Piper how quickly he was disappearing. She knew, of course, because she could see it with her very own eyes. But she also _didn't_ know. She thought he still had time.

She thought this plan might actually save him. She knew that there was a chance that it wouldn't, but she didn't realize just how big of a chance that was.

And it would have been so tempting to take Lucifer's offer.

But Chris was _not_ going to become the devil's lackey.

It was time to take the risk, make the gamble.

"Well," Chris said, "I suppose you will need someone to replace Lola."

Lucifer's eyes widened slightly, but other than that, he showed no sign of surprise. A cool mask fell over his features, and he asked, "What do you mean?" in a voice entirely devoid of emotion.

Chris smiled. "What do you _think_ I mean?" he countered.

"You haven't vanquished her," Lucifer said calmly. "I would _know_ if you had."

He was arrogant, so confident, and it was annoying Chris.

Of course, he was also probably right; he would know if Lola had been vanquished. The devil probably kept tabs on his minions, and Lola was his most important ally at the moment. There was no way he wouldn't feel it if the sorceress was vanquished.

Chris glanced at the clock. A few hours since Piper left. Plenty of time for the Charmed Ones to hunt down the first of the demonic clans that Lucifer often worked with and vanquish them.

Chris smiled.

"You know," he said.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"You keep tabs on your demons," Chris said. "You know that we've gotten to them. Vanquished them. You're here to make this deal with me because you want to stop the attacks but you also want Leo's release to seem like _your_ idea. You don't want anyone to know that we managed to turn Lola against you."

Lucifer said nothing.

Chris smiled even wider. "The answer is no, Lucifer," he said flatly. "I'm not making this deal with you. I'll take my own nonexistence over letting you win yet another round."

"I'm not sure Piper would agree to that," Lucifer said quietly.

"Maybe not," Chris agreed. "But it doesn't matter. She'll be hurt at losing her ex-husband and son, but she'll at least be able to take comfort in the fact that, very soon, the entire world is going to know that you're no longer capable of inspiring the same loyalty or fear as you used to be."

"I'll vanquish Lola," Lucifer said.

"The Charmed Ones will protect her," Chris answered. "Besides, you don't have active powers. I'm sure there are other demons out there willing to work for you… _for now_. But we'll see how long that lasts."

Lucifer gave Chris a chilling smile. "Do you really think I can't overcome this? It doesn't take much to inspire loyalty or fear. I'll just remind the demonic world what I am capable of, and they'll come crawling back."

"Oh, I know you _can_ overcome this," Chris replied. "I just don't think you _want_ to put in the necessary time and effort. Because it _will_ take time. So how about I offer a deal instead?"

Lucifer frowned. "I'm listening," he said resentfully.

Chris tried to keep his glee hidden, but his ability to control his emotions was still sorely lacking, and he had a feeling the devil could see exactly how he felt.

"Bring Leo back now, before I disappear, and we call off the attacks and stop working with Lola," Chris replied. "We'll tell no one of the deal."

"And the magical creatures you are working with?" Lucifer asked suspiciously.

"They don't know where we got the information," Chris promised. "They don't know about Lola. They don't even know that the demonic clans we are attacking work for you."

"But they know that the end goal is to get the Elder back from me," Lucifer said pointedly. "You underestimate them if you don't think they're smart enough to figure out what you're doing."

Chris shrugged. "We told them that you told us to get rid of the demonic clans as part of the deal to get Leo back. The demons were rebelling against you, and we needed to vanquish every last one."

Lucifer stared at him for a long moment, then gave an appreciate grin. "You are cleverer than I thought," he admitted.

Again, Chris wasn't sure whether to be flattered or disgusted by the praise.

"You tell no one of this deal," Lucifer said. "The only ones who can know are you, the three Charmed Ones, and the Elder. If you tell anyone else, then the deal is off and I come for you _and_ the Elder."

"No," Chris said. "You come for just _me_."

Lucifer furrowed his brow. "Why?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

"I was the one who made the first deal with you," Chris answered. "Your involvement in my family's life is on _my_ shoulders. I am going to take the responsibility for it."

Chris felt something suddenly expand in his chest and he looked down in time to see his entire body turn transparent. He barely stifled the gasp.

"No one can see you," Lucifer said calmly. "At least, no one human. And probably not most magical creatures. But don't worry, you still have an hour or two."

Chris raised an eyebrow. He wasn't going to let Lucifer rattle him if he could avoid it, but he couldn't deny that he was a little bit curious as to how the devil knew the details of what was going to happen to him.

He didn't need to vocalize his question – Lucifer answered it anyway.

"You're not the first person I've watched disappear. You'd be surprised how often people make deals that end up making others cease to exist."

Chris pressed his lips into a thin line. That really shouldn't surprise him; _of course_ the devil had done this to other people.

He pushed away that thought and forced himself to focus on the issue at hand. "Do we have a deal?"

"The Elder's soul and your existence in exchange for everyone's silence," Lucifer said quietly, contemplatively. Then he nodded and spoke the one word that Chris had been hoping to hear. "_Deal_."

Lucifer folded his arms over his chest and then disappeared abruptly, no doubt off to carry out his end of the deal. Chris allowed a smirk of triumph to play momentarily across his features, but then for reasons he couldn't quite understand, some vague sense of unease coalesced in the pit of his stomach.

He stared at the spot where Lucifer had stood, and couldn't help but think that something was wrong; the devil had agreed far too quickly to his terms.

* * *

><p><em>Several days previously…<em>

Lucifer understood the importance of being careful with souls. They were fragile things, so easily battered and broken. Some were more resilient than others, and the one that he was holding in his hands now was certainly stronger than most, but it was still a soul, and souls were still weak.

Bodies were weak, too, though their weaknesses were different. They were just blood and flesh and bone, and so many things could go wrong. It was a wonder humans survived past infancy at all.

Lola was standing behind him, watching patiently. He liked her better than most, but she was entirely expendable. It would be a shame to lose her, though, and the Charmed Ones would probably continue to go after her when they realized they couldn't get to him. He would need to be careful; expendable or not, she was a good assistant, and he didn't want to lose her unless absolutely necessary.

Of course, that day would come soon enough.

Returning a soul to a body was a simple enough matter. He'd done it in the past, though never for anything quite as grand as this. It was an ambitious plan, and he'd have to run this long con with all the skill and expertise he had gathered since the dawn of time. After all, the Charmed Ones were good.

He was better.

The body beneath his twitched as it accepted back its soul. Color rushed into the pale skin and blood started running through the veins. The eyelids fluttered as the body tried to adjust – or perhaps it was the soul adjusting to being free. Returning a soul might be simple, but gaining a soul was far more complicated. Souls were painful things, after all.

Eyelids opened and green eyes stared unseeingly up at the ceiling of the cave.

Then slammed shut.

Lucifer crouched down next to the body. "Careful," he whispered gently. "Give your body some time to adjust."

An arm moved jerkily and fingers made awkward motions as though to grasp at something. A groan emitted from the body.

"Gently, Christopher," Lucifer said again, chiding. "Don't strain yourself."

Honestly, didn't the boy understand that he couldn't just jump to his feet and rush off into the next battle? He needed time to relax, to breathe. To heal.

Lola shimmered to stand behind Lucifer, and asked, "Is he awake?"

"Almost," Lucifer replied, glancing back at her with a smirk of anticipation.

Green eyes opened once more and squinted, as though pained by what they saw. Lucifer frowned, surprised at the reaction, but it was Lola who said in wonder, "He's seeing you." She stepped around Lucifer and gave Chris a puzzled look, before elaborating, "You as you really are. Not… not the face you show the world, but the light behind it. That is why it hurts him to open his eyes."

Lucifer nodded. That wasn't surprising, though it was slightly unusual. But it would fade soon enough.

"Lola…" Christopher whispered.

Lola laughed lightly. "You remember me, white-lighter. After several weeks of belonging to the devil…" She shared an amused look with Lucifer. "I am flattered."

"Lucifer," Christopher murmured. "Light-bringer. Morning star." Then he opened his eyes once more, and Lucifer watched as he struggled to see beyond the light that was blinding him. It took a moment, and then Christopher blinked and stared directly at Lucifer's face.

The devil smiled. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Christopher."

"How am I… why am I… what did you do?" Christopher stammered, moving jerkily away from Lucifer. He made what must have been an attempt to stand, but fell instead to his hands and knees. Clearly, he still had no idea that his body had limits and he couldn't simply force himself to move past them based on sheer willpower alone.

Though he certainly was determined to try.

Lucifer continued to smile as he answered simply, "I released your soul and replaced it in your body." Chris stared at him, and Lucifer felt his smile fade, his amusement momentarily replaced by concern. Chris was sane. There was tumultuous emotions in the white-lighter's eyes – anger and pain and grief and hatred and paranoia that would be _so_ fun to play with – but there was no insanity.

_No one_ survived a month in hell without a bit of madness creeping into them.

Lucifer forced his face back into a smug smile and rose to his feet, but he couldn't help but be concerned.

* * *

><p>The Charmed Ones had summoned Lola and trapped her in a crystal cage.<p>

Lucifer sighed. It wasn't unexpected, of course. The eldest Charmed One was not going to give up on her ex-husband, and since she couldn't summon Lucifer, she would go after Lola. It was obvious. Predictable. Lucifer had known it would happen, and even Lola had suspected it might come to this. It was not a surprise.

It was still rather annoying.

Lucifer appeared in the middle of a cave and glanced around. There were several lower-level demons present, mostly arguing with each other or boasting about their recent kills. They had red skin and yellow eyes, and forked tongues flicked from between black lips. They spoke in loud and sharp voices, and moved with loud and sharp steps.

Lucifer was not a fan of lower-level demons. They were so… animalistic. They lacked an appreciation for subtly and subterfuge, and did not understand the delicate art of politics.

Of course, they were still useful.

The demons fell silent the moment they spotted Lucifer. There was a sort of reverence in their inhuman eyes.

"The Charmed Ones have summoned my sorceress and trapped her in a crystal cage," Lucifer said mildly. "I want her back."

He didn't need to say anything else. He didn't need to give a direct order, didn't need to threaten or bribe. He merely had to state what he wanted…

As one, the demons bowed their heads, and then several of them disappeared, intent on doing his bidding.

Lucifer smiled.

Then he held out his hand and stopped the nearest demon from leaving. With a cold and calculating smile, he said, "Give my regards to the eldest Charmed One."

The demon nodded to show he understood, then disappeared.

* * *

><p>Everything had relied on the Elder. As long as <em>he<em> killed Gideon, as long as _he_ sacrificed his soul, Lucifer had been convinced he could win. _Would_ win.

But he'd done nothing to put the idea in the Elder's head. He could have – could have whispered honeyed words in Leo's ear, could have quietly suggested ideas and made Leo think they were his own.

He hadn't bothered.

Just as he hadn't bothered making the Elders suspicious of Leo.

He would have done it if it had been necessary, but he had been fairly convinced it wouldn't be. He'd had a few millennia to study humans and Elders and the like, and he knew how they worked, how they thought, how they planned, how they lived. He knew what would happen.

The Charmed Ones would underestimate Gideon, and that particular Elder would escape. Leo would be forced to protect his son, and would do whatever was necessary. He would be overcome by rage and fury at the thought of his precious Wyatt being killed – or worse – and would kill Gideon.

It was all so… predictable.

The Elders would be suspicious because they were, by their very nature, a suspicious group. They had to be. They were in charge of protecting the entire magical community of Good, and could never afford to let down their guard. Their recent battle with the Titans would have reminded them of the pain of loss, and Gideon's betrayal and Leo's subsequent actions would be just too much for them to bear. They'd be afraid, and the fear would lend power to their suspicion.

He didn't need to plan it, it would just _happen_.

The eldest Charmed One would have sacrificed her soul in a heartbeat if she'd ever had the option, so Lucifer had been careful not to appear to her. He'd only appeared to Leo, confident that, once again, the Elder would do anything necessary to save his son.

Of course, he would be so desperate, so filled with grief and guilt and fury, that he wouldn't even realize that he was only saving his son from hell to condemn him to nonexistence.

It was all so deliciously perfect.

Of course, that didn't mean that Lucifer couldn't take pleasure in intervening later, after the Elder had sold his soul. The devil knew all the right buttons to push, and even if these things would have fallen into place without him doing anything, it didn't hurt to help things along.

"We cannot get involved with Lucifer! Are you not listening to us, Charmed One? We cannot take the risk that Lucifer will manipulate us – or you – more than he already has. He has Leo's soul, but if we can prevent him from taking anything else…"

Lucifer stared at the Elder who had spoken, taking in her anger and her fear. The thought that these powerful beings were terrified of him brought an icy smile to his lips and he came closer, inching forward.

They couldn't see him, of course, but that didn't mean they wouldn't be able to sense him. He had to be cautious, particularly because there were five Elders in the attic and each one of them had the ability to sense power. He'd done his best to cloak his aura, but he just didn't know what they were capable of…

Of course, he was also standing in the presence of one of the most powerful witches the world had ever known, and she had no idea he was there. All six magical beings in the room were too blinded by their emotions to notice his presence.

He turned his attention towards the youngest Charmed One as she retorted tauntingly, "Afraid? You don't want to risk your own souls, don't want to risk your own lives. It's easy to send other people into danger, but when it comes to the Elders, you would rather stand around Up There and let other people fight your battles. You have no idea what loss feels like."

Lucifer's smile grew, and he whispered _How many did you lose when the Titans attacked?_

"We don't understand _loss_?" the female Elder spat. "Need I remind you of what happened to us when the Titans were released less than a year ago?"

Lucifer shook his head. Influencing thoughts through astral projection wasn't a gift he used often. In some ways, it felt almost like cheating. Very few beings, human or otherwise, had the strength of character to withstand this particular power, and where was the fun in this game if no one fought back?

On the other hand, it did have limitations – he could only whisper the truth, and sometimes that wasn't enough.

This was not one of those times.

"We grieve for our fellow Elders and white-lighters," the female Elder continued in a softer tone, "just as we grieve for every witch who dies battling evil. Do not presume to understand what we feel for our sons and daughters."

Lucifer turned towards another Elder, one he vaguely knew had worked with the traitorous Gideon, and murmured, _But the Charmed Ones do presume. They rarely make an attempt to see the world through any viewpoint but their own. And they certainly do not like any of you right now._

The Elder stepped forward, sneering. "They are the Charmed Ones, Aravis. Of course they will presume. They are presumptuous enough to…"

"This is not helping," another Elder said.

"True," replied Michael – and Lucifer recognized him without any problem.

The devil smirked; it would be a pleasure to go up against _that_ particular Elder.

Michael continued, "I understand how much you care for Leo, and your desire to save him is commendable. But do not think for a moment that you will be able to rescue him without paying a price."

Lucifer turned to the youngest Charmed One. _If you don't save your precious Elder, what do you think will happen to your oldest sister? How will she handle it? _He saw the look of uncertainty and apprehension cross Paige's face and allowed himself one final smile before disappearing from the attic.

* * *

><p>"So what did the Elders want? Why did they visit you? Did they have any information that might be helpful?"<p>

Lucifer studied the empath intently as she addressed her sister. He hadn't spent a lot of time around her – of the three sisters, Piper had been his main target. But beyond the simple matter of practicality, the devil did not like empaths. They were unpredictable. Some empaths were so perceptive that they were challenging to manipulate. Others were constantly so caught up by everyone else's emotions that they were far too easy to manipulate, and thus were boring. Lucifer wasn't sure which one Phoebe Halliwell would be, and he didn't like unknowns.

Of course, he was fairly convinced that nothing the empath did at this point could change the outcome – the pieces were falling into place and he was going to succeed.

But still… he didn't like the fact that he was going to have to use the empath. Piper had her own purpose to serve, her own part to play. She had to push Chris over the edge just enough that he would be desperate to save his family. And Paige, too, had a role. She had to be a go-between for her sisters and the Elders, had to facilitate the relationship that would be important for the future.

They both had roles, and so it was the empath who would have to play this part.

"They want us to stop looking for Leo," Paige said diffidently.

"_What_?" Piper snarled.

_Hold onto that anger_, Lucifer murmured. _Think of everything the Elders have taken from you_.

Phoebe and Piper were both glaring at Paige, though it was clear that their anger was directed towards the Elders and not their sister. But Paige continued onwards, apparently determined to explain everything.

"They think the consequences of going up against Lucifer would far outweigh the benefits of getting Leo back… if we even succeed in that. They wanted me to tell you that… that we need to stop. We can't have anything more to do with the devil."

_They're perfectly willing to let your ex-husband suffer if it keeps the world safe. They believe in the Greater Good_, Lucifer whispered in Piper's ear.

"That's ridiculous," Piper retorted. "That's absolutely… ugh."

"Leo is an Elder," Phoebe protested as well, disbelief coloring her voice. "He's one of _them_."

_Is he?_ Lucifer asked. _Really?_

"Yeah, but he hasn't exactly been in their good graces since he killed Gideon," Piper pointed out, running a hand through her hair. Her voice was laced with venom as she added, "I be there are plenty of Elders who are happy to have him out of the way."

"Do you really think they'd do that?" Phoebe asked tentatively.

"I think they're scared," Paige said after a moment of contemplation. "I think… I think they aren't happy with Leo, but I also think… I think they are really, truly terrified of what Lucifer could do."

_Good_, Lucifer said with a satisfied smile. _They should be_. Then he turned to Phoebe and said, _But you don't need their permission. You are the Charmed Ones. Think of all the magical creatures you've saved. If you ask them for help, who do you think they will listen to – the Elders who deliver rules from on high or the three witches who protected them from evil over and over?_

* * *

><p>When the inevitable confrontation came – with its shouting and crying and tumultuous emotion – Lucifer felt as though it was a little anticlimactic. He hadn't needed to do anything. It had all happened on its own, just like Leo killing Gideon and trading his soul for his son had happened without much interference by the devil.<p>

"That's a good thing," Lola said with a smirk, flicking red hair out of her eyes and giving Lucifer a knowing look. "Everything is going according to plan."

Lucifer agreed with a slow nod. "True," he murmured. He walked over to the plush armchair in the center of Lola's well-decorated and adorned room, and sat down. "But I'm growing… _bored_. I expected to have to do more."

"You didn't know what would happen when you set the white-lighter free?" Lola asked skeptically.

Lucifer glanced at her, then closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift back to the argument he had just witnessed. Piper Halliwell had not been pleased to discover that her youngest planned to leave them and return to the future to check on his brother. The argument that had resulted had been vicious and filled with accusations that both would regret.

And the poor Paige Matthews just stood there, unable to do much of anything about it.

"I had an inkling," Lucifer said. "But I expected to need to do more. Christopher is not behaving in the way I had anticipated."

Lola considered this for a moment, then said, "You were concerned when he was first released from hell with his sanity intact. Now you are concerned that he is too emotional. Isn't that… contradictory?"

"No," Lucifer answered. "I expected the emotional turmoil. I designed it, after all."

Christopher was an unknown in the equation. The others were predictably human – they let their emotions cloud everything. But Christopher had the ability to see past his emotions, to recognize the patterns in the chaos. And for that reason, Lucifer had made sure that _his_ hell would be one that left him unable to control those very same emotions he had been so used to shoving aside.

A unique hell for a unique purpose.

The devil knew he couldn't run the risk of Christopher seeing the truth, but as long as the white-lighter was too caught up in his own inner demons, he wouldn't recognize the plan until it was far too late to do anything about it.

But he was still a little concerned. Christopher wasn't falling into insanity as quickly as Lucifer had hoped he would. It wasn't entirely necessary for the plan to work, but it would have added a sense of desperation, would have made the others all the more eager to do something. _Anything_.

And people who rushed into unknown situations tended to suffer for it.

Christopher was doubting himself, though. Doubting his intentions, doubting his abilities. The tension between the eldest Charmed One and the white-lighter was pushing both further and further into their own grief and anger, and it was pulling everyone apart.

Lucifer frowned and fiddled with the sunglasses he always kept with him. He couldn't quite stop the feeling of unease, but he also couldn't figure out its basis. Why did Christopher worry him so much?

Finally, he said, "It seems a little too easy."

"The hardest part hasn't started yet," Lola protested. "Right now, you're just lining up the pieces. You haven't pushed them over yet."

"A dominos analogy?" Lucifer asked lightly. "I like that." He stared off into space contemplatively before adding with an appreciative tone, "One push and everything goes toppling over." Then he sobered and said, "It will take more than one push. And a lot of preparation."

"What you are planning is quite big," Lola pointed out logically. Lucifer didn't answer, and she walked around until she was standing directly in front of him. Her lips curved into a wicked smile as she said, "If you are bored and you are worried about Christopher, there is an easy way to take care of both birds with one stone."

Lucifer laughed. This was why he liked working with Lola. Not only was she intelligent – far more so than any lower-level demon, and even more than most of the upper-level ones – but she took the initiative, offering suggestions instead of merely waiting for directions.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it was time to give this train-wreck-waiting-to-happen another little push.

He gave Lola a farewell nod and disappeared.

He reappeared seconds later in the doorway of the backroom of P3 and looked around. The table and floor were covered in charts and lists and pens and notes and bits of paper. Christopher had been busy looking for something. A solution, probably.

He hadn't found it.

The white-lighter was now sprawled on the lumpy sofa, asleep. Exhaustion must have gotten the better of him, because Lucifer doubted that Christopher would have willingly allowed himself a luxury such as sleep. Not when he was frantically looking for answers.

Again, the feeling of unease washed over Lucifer.

It was almost a pity to do this. The boy had held everything together so well considering the circumstances that Lucifer couldn't help but feel respect for him. It was rare that he faced an adversary like this, and though he was loathe to admit it, the young white-lighter was starting to grow on him.

He walked over to the boy sleeping on the sofa and sighed. _Sorry, Christopher_, he thought, _but I need you to want this. I need you to be so desperate to save the future, save your family, that you'll see only what you want to see and miss all the warning signs. I need you to believe._

Then he rested one hand gently on the boy's forehead and murmured, "Sweet dreams, Christopher."

* * *

><p>"Are you ready?" Lucifer asked cautiously.<p>

Lola gave him a long-suffering look. "Of course I am ready," she said. She turned to study herself in the mirror, running a hand over her long skirt and adjusting the bracelets on her wrist.

"This isn't a beauty contest," Lucifer said, amused.

Lola spun around to face him. "A sorceress should always look her best," she replied.

"Now, remember," Lucifer said, "Christopher will have undoubtedly been the one to come up with this plan. And he's smart. Cunning. He's going to try to play you. So you just have to make sure that you're playing him as well."

Lola curved cherry-red lips into a smile. "I think I can manage that," she said.

"Let them think that you are afraid. You don't want to be vanquished. You don't want the premonition to come true," Lucifer continued. He knew he was lecturing far too much – Lola was perfectly capable of doing this. But this was the only part of the plan that relied solely on her, and he didn't like giving up control.

Lola nodded patiently.

"They will offer you a way out. Or, perhaps, they will let you escape and then expect you to come back to them after you have had time to think about it. Improvise if you have to, but make sure they think they have you fooled."

Again, Lola nodded, though this time there was a hint of impatience in her eyes.

Lucifer sighed.

"Christopher is good, Lola. He's one of the best I've gone up against in a long time," Lucifer said quietly. "He'll be suspicious if you make this too easy for him, and he'll be suspicious if you make it too hard. You _have_ to play this perfectly."

Lola pursed her lips together and said in a subdued tone, "I understand."

"Good."

Lucifer turned away and started pacing. He felt cheap. He'd relied too much on astral projection. But all of the players in this knew who he was, so he couldn't just approach them in a coffee shop or on the street and start talking. He had to do things this way.

Besides, he reasoned, it wasn't really cheating if he was constrained by an inability to lie. Unlike dark-lighters or other demons who could whisper anything they wanted while astral projecting, he was only able to say things that were true, things his victim already believed. All he could really do was draw attention to the thoughts drifting about in the recesses of others' minds.

That required skill and a working knowledge of the human psyche. His entire plan had required meticulous preparation and knowledge of human interactions, relationships, and emotions. So astral projection wasn't taking the easy way out…

It was merely necessary.

He was pleased the gypsies were involved. All he'd had to do was whisper that suggestion in Piper's ear, and the moment Phoebe had broached the topic of asking other members of the magical world for help, Piper had run with the idea.

He didn't like gypsies.

No, that was too much of an understatement.

He _loathed_ gypsies. He _despised_ them. He hated them with every fiber of his being.

He didn't like being bested.

He'd sat silently in the Manor's kitchen, hidden from view, and listened to that young gypsy tell the story, and he'd had to fight back his own rage. Emotions were a weakness most of the time, and he knew better than to let his anger interfere with his ability to think clearly. But he was still furious.

A priestess wasn't supposed to win against him. _No one_ was supposed to win against him.

He despised the gypsies almost as much as he hated the Elders, and he'd be more than happy to watch both groups fall.

Lucifer had been surprised by how quickly Christopher had figured out how the gypsy priestess had won. He hadn't expected the white-lighter to be thinking that clearly and that quickly. it had impressed Lucifer.

It had worried him, too.

Why hadn't Christopher fallen apart yet? Why was he still holding his own, still plotting and fighting?

A sudden rush of wind filled the room, and Lucifer spun around in time to see Lola give him a confident smile before she was summoned away.

Now it was time for him to go enlist the help of a few demonic clans so that Lola would have names to deliver to the Charmed Ones when the time came.

"I'll send them after lower-level demons," Lucifer said thoughtfully. "There are far too many of those, anyway. The Underworld could do with a few less savages."

* * *

><p>"It's done," Lola said, shimmering into sight next to Lucifer. "I've delivered the names of the demonic clans. Oh, and the white-lighter is very close to disappearing."<p>

Lucifer smiled maliciously. "Good. The more desperate he is, the more careless he'll be. The more willing he will be to assume that he's actually manipulating me, even though he should know better than to believe he can do _that_."

Now all he had to do was go to Christopher and get Christopher to offer him a deal. He'd set the specific terms he needed for his entire plan to work, and then he could sit back and watch the destruction start.

Lola twirled a strand of hair around one finger. "You'll set the Elder free as soon as you finish talking to the white-lighter?" she questioned.

"Of course," Lucifer confirmed. "I can't very well let Christopher disappear, can I? He's my insurance policy." He wiped his hands on his suit pants, put on his sunglasses, and gave Lola a last smug smile. "Show time."


	17. The Ninth Circle

Chapter Fourteen: The Ninth Circle

The feeling of lightness was spreading, seeping through his body. It was warm, and filled him with a peace that he had not felt in years. It would be so easy to give up, to fade away… His life had been a constant battle to survive for so long, and nonexistence was finally offering him a chance to rest.

But Chris was a Halliwell, and Halliwells did not rest.

"Chris?"

The three sisters appeared in a swirl of orbs, and Chris' eyes were immediately drawn to Piper. She was calling out for him, but he was much less interested in her words than in the fact that she was covered in dirt and blood and her clothing had been singed by fire. He wanted to ask if she was alright, but what was the point? She couldn't see him, couldn't hear him. He had no way of reaching out to her. He barely even existed anymore.

Piper dropped Paige's hand and headed towards the stairs. "Chris!" she called again.

There was no worry in her voice. No panic. Chris bit his lip, feeling almost guilty about that. If he'd been honest with her, if he'd told her how much time he really had left… Well, if he'd done that, then his absence now would be terrifying her. As it was, she seemed to think that he was merely ignoring her calls.

He'd done enough of that recently for her to make the assumption.

He sighed and followed her up the stairs towards her room.

There were cuts on her skin and her knee was already starting to swell. But the vanquish must have been successful, because Paige and Phoebe had been smiling and Piper was flushed with exhilaration.

Chris knew he should be happy about that, but he couldn't stop the unease from expanding inside his chest. Something about Lucifer still bothered him – something he couldn't quite place. This was all wrong. It had been too easy, too straightforward.

Lucifer wouldn't fall for the same trick twice.

Piper shoved the door to her bedroom open and walked inside. The door swung shut, but Chris walked straight through it, unbothered by the solid wood blocking his path.

There were some perks to being a ghost. Or whatever he was.

Piper paused and looked back at the door, her mouth partially open. But then she stopped and shook her head. She turned around and looked at the bed, and her expression fell into something more somber. Her lips pressed together into a flat line, and as Chris walked around the room so that he was facing her once more, he caught a glimpse of tears sparkling in her eyes before she hurriedly blinked them away.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. Chris stood there, watching her, and the lightness continued spreading through his body. It infiltrated his mind, and his thoughts suddenly became sluggish and incoherent.

This wasn't right. He'd made a deal with Lucifer. The devil had to return Leo before Chris ceased to exist – so why was he disappearing now?

He opened his mouth, wanting to cry out, but couldn't form the words. "Piper!" he finally managed to choke out as his vision darkened and everything around him grew fuzzy. Panic settled in, and although he had convinced himself that he'd accepted the possibility of his own nonexistence, he now had to face the reality that that simply wasn't true.

He wanted to live. He desperately, passionately, frantically wanted to live.

"Piper… _help me_!"

The last thing he saw before his vision went completely black was Piper's eyes snapping open even as she froze on the bed, almost as though she had heard him call out.

Then…

Nothing.

* * *

><p>He became aware of his surroundings quickly. It wasn't like coming back from hell – that had been long and painful. This was fast, like a burst of lightning that suddenly illuminates everything. One moment there was nothing at all, and the next he was standing in the middle of Piper's bedroom, fully formed and visible.<p>

The sheets on the bed were strewn about, and the blankets and pillows were tossed onto the floor. There was a pile of clothing by the foot of the bed - Piper's clothing. And a flannel shirt tossed on the chair - Leo's shirt.

And it hit Chris – with the full force of sudden clarity – just what had happened.

"Oh, God!" he gasp, practically gagging. He backed away from the bed, from the sheets and blankets, from the evidence of what had just taken place. "Oh… oh, _God_…"

The door to the bedroom opened and Leo came in. He had a towel wrapped around his waste, and his hair was wet. His skin was pale and his eyes were haunted and he looked so beaten down, but none of that mattered to Chris because the young white-lighter was suddenly feeling sick.

"Chris…" Leo whispered.

Chris backed away from him. "You… you and Piper…" His eyes darted to the bed. "You and Piper just…"

It shouldn't have come as such a shock. After all, he'd known all along that the two of them would need to… do _that_… as soon as Leo returned. He had to be conceived – that was the entire point of getting Leo back.

And now that Chris was solid again, now that he was no longer in danger, it was clear that his soon-to-be parents had done exactly what needed to be done. He should be happy, he should be relieved. After all, he had so desperately wanted to live.

He just hadn't expected to find himself standing in their bedroom moments after they'd… done… _that_.

He couldn't even bring himself to _think_ the word. It was far too disturbing. Who wanted to envision their parents… doing it? Who wanted to find themselves standing in the middle of the room, in front of the bed – in front of the very sheets – on which their parents had…

And with Leo standing there, too, staring at him…

"Chris," Leo said again, his voice louder this time. "Chris."

"Don't," Chris said, sounding harsher than he meant. He held up a hand to stop Leo. "Just… don't. You can go put some clothes on and then we can talk. But not here." He looked at the bed with a shudder. "You know what? Let's not even talk in this house. Let's go some place very, very far away."

Leo stared at him uncomprehendingly. "What?" he asked.

"God, Leo… you and Piper… you had _sex_," Chris said. Then, unable to stand it anymore, he orbed out of the room.

* * *

><p>"Oh, thank God!" Phoebe cried, running forward to hug Leo the moment she spotted him. He tensed and flinched away from her, and she felt the full force of his pain and panic and other jumbled emotions slam into her, causing her to stumble backwards.<p>

Paige was at her side quickly, steadying her.

"Sorry," Leo whispered, his voice rough and raw. He looked apologetic, apparently knowing that it was his emotions that were hurting her, but still unable to do anything about it.

Phoebe gave a wan smile. "Don't be," she said, rubbing at her temples. "It's not your fault. I'm just really glad that you're back."

"Me, too," Leo murmured.

Paige reached out and tentatively squeezed his shoulder. He didn't flinch, but his eyes darted warily away before moving back to Paige's face. It was almost as though he was afraid of them, but that didn't make any sense. Chris, too, was filled with nearly uncontrollable emotions now that he'd returned from hell, but his emotions made sense. They were just stronger versions of things he'd already felt. But Leo's fear…

That wasn't a stronger version of anything. Leo had never been afraid of them in the past. How could he be afraid of them now?

Phoebe glanced at Piper. She was standing behind Leo, and she was the only one Leo wouldn't flinch away from. She was smiling, a warm smile that lit up her entire face. Although she must have seen just how damaged Leo was, she seemed to think that this obstacle could be surpassed.

Maybe it could. They were finally all together again, after all.

With that thought in mind, Phoebe asked, "Where's Chris?"

Leo blushed. "He… uh… he's fine. He's just…" He looked over his shoulder at Piper, and she was blushing, too.

"You two slept together!" Phoebe said, a smirk playing at her lips. Then her eyes narrowed. "Instead of coming to tell Paige and I that Leo was back, you decided to let us keep worrying so you two could sleep together?"

"I wasn't thinking clearly," Piper said, averting her gaze quickly. "I was just… relieved to see Leo."

"Obviously," Paige said, rolling her eyes. She looked down at Piper's stomach. "So… is Chris… in there?"

"Yeah," Piper said, her voice awed. She touched her stomach. "It's so… weird. I don't even feel pregnant, but I must be, because Chris is back…" She shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. "Chris," she whispered, as though testing out the name.

The room suddenly filled with the light of white and blue orbs, and Chris appeared. He gave Leo and Piper a quick look, his eyes darting to Piper's stomach before moving away. His face was flushed slightly, and Phoebe could feel his embarrassment and disgust.

She almost laughed as the realization hit her, and felt somewhat tempted to ask Chris just what he had witnessed. But she doubted he would take that teasing particularly well, so she wisely kept her silence.

"You're solid," Paige said, grinning at Chris.

"I am," Chris replied. "_And_ Leo's back."

"How?" Piper asked. Phoebe looked at her, but Piper was too busy looking at Chris. "I mean… I'm glad he's back, but… how?"

"I made the deal with Lucifer," Chris answered. "He came to me after you guys left. He knew that Lola had turned on him, knew that…" He stopped, frowning. "He made the deal with me."

"What was the deal?" Leo asked sharply, panic coloring his tone. "Did you trade your soul? Did _anyone_ trade their soul?"

"No," Piper said quickly, turning her attention to Leo with a reassuring smile. "We forced Lucifer into a deal. We got the upper hand."

"I'm not sure that we did," Chris interrupted.

Phoebe lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she demanded anxiously.

Chris sighed. "I can't really explain it. I just… I think… Lucifer agreed far too quickly to my deal. It was almost like… like he _wanted_ it."

"What did he say?" Piper pressed.

Chris leaned against the counter and surveyed the other four. "Lucifer came to me. At first I thought it was just to gloat, but then I realized that he knew what we were doing. I told him that he could either make a deal with me – Leo in return for our silence – or the entire magical world would know that he could be betrayed."

"And he agreed to the deal," Piper said.

Chris nodded. "We're not allowed to tell anyone about the deal, though, or Lucifer gets my soul." He rubbed his eye. "There's something we're missing," he muttered. "I just… I can't _see_ it."

Phoebe could feel his frustration and his worry. It was intense, almost more intense than Leo's emotions. He was truly afraid.

"We'll figure it out," Piper said. "As long as we're together, that's all that matters."

Chris didn't look convinced.

"I don't understand," Leo said, "what deal did you make with Lucifer? How did you force him into the deal? And what's this about him being betrayed?"

"I'll fill you in later," Piper said quickly.

Phoebe chewed her lip as she studied her family. Leo was an emotional mess, Piper seemed to be so fixated on the good that she couldn't see that anything might be wrong, and Chris was a strange mixture of worry about Lucifer and simmering anger at everyone else. They were all damaged in ways that even she couldn't fully understand, and she was the empath.

Leo was staring at Chris. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words.

Phoebe knew exactly how he felt.

"You still need to be careful," Chris said. "I don't trust Lucifer. I don't trust that this is over."

And without waiting for an answer, he orbed away.

"Chris!" Leo called out quickly, but Chris was already gone. The Elder stared blankly at the spot where Chris had stood, unable to fully comprehend that Chris had just left, and Phoebe felt a bit of sympathy for him. He hadn't been here for the past several days, didn't understand just how strained things were between everyone.

Piper narrowed her eyes. "He said you," she muttered.

"What?" Paige asked.

Piper shook her head. "He said _you_," she repeated, but didn't elaborate.

Phoebe didn't need her sister to elaborate, she had a pretty good idea exactly what Piper was thinking. Before focusing on saving Leo, Chris had been determined to return to the future to check on Wyatt. Once they'd finally had a plausible plan for fighting Lucifer, Chris had reluctantly put aside his plans to return to his own time in favor of helping them. But now that Leo was back…

It seemed he was planning on finally leaving.

* * *

><p>"Leo's back, Michael. Lucifer released him."<p>

"I know, Aravis," Michael said heavily. The white mist and fog of Up There swirled around the two, hiding their meeting from the view of other Elders and white-lighters, offering them the privacy necessary for a discussion of such delicate nature.

"Lucifer would not release Leo unless he had some plan. Unless the Charmed Ones had offered him something," Aravis said, her voice coated in apprehension. She narrowed her eyes. "I don't trust them."

"Do you believe the Charmed Ones would work with Lucifer?" Michael asked skeptically.

Aravis sighed, shaking her head slowly. "I don't want to believe it, but if they were blinded by their own desires…" She paused. "Michael, they convinced _so many_ to help them against our explicit orders. And to help them do what? Get rid of demons that Lucifer wanted them to destroy?"

Michael nodded slowly. It was true that the Charmed Ones had convinced a substantial portion of the magical community to ignore the Elders' rules. And – despite what the three Halliwells clearly believed – the rules were actually there for a reason. They protected the world from demons and other evils, and couldn't be ignored simply because they were inconvenient.

Lucifer was known for his manipulations. He was known for driving people insane, for bring out their worst attributes, for whispering words in their ears and making them do horrible things.

Was it possible that Lucifer could have turned the Charmed Ones evil?

And was it possible that the Charmed Ones had turned the magical community against the Elders?

* * *

><p>He had the Book open to the entry on time portals.<p>

He had stopped looking at the entry about twenty minutes ago, and was instead staring into space, thinking.

He'd called out for Piper. That moment when he was finally about to cease to exist, when the fear gripped him and he desperately didn't want to give up…

Yes, Piper had been the only one in the room, but it was more than that. He'd called out to her because hers had been the first name that had come to mind. He'd been afraid, and he'd wanted help…

And he'd instinctively turned to Piper.

_Why_?

He couldn't answer that question. She was Piper, not Mom. And Mom – that was someone he would have – someone he _did_ – instinctively go to for help. But Piper…

There were lines that separated the two of them – Piper and Mom. When had that line blurred?

"Chris?"

Chris started, having been so lost in his own thoughts that he'd not heard Leo's approach.

"Leo," Chris said warily.

He didn't know what to make of Leo. His father… well, that relationship hadn't been great. His father hadn't been a bad father, not really. He'd heard plenty from Aunt Paige and Uncle Henry about the kinds of bad parents they dealt with in their respective lines of work. Abusive parents. Parents who were always drunk or high. Parents who beat their children, or locked them in closets and refused to feed them, or kicked them out of the house.

His father had never been any of those things.

He'd missed plays and birthday parties. He'd sent letters of apology, always asking for forgiveness, always saying he would be there next time. But then it would happen again.

He was always busy. Always working, always answering the Elders' every beck and call. Like nothing else mattered – like Chris didn't matter.

"Your mother told me about everything that happened," Leo said, interrupting Chris' thoughts.

"Piper," Chris corrected automatically, not realizing that he'd said it aloud until he registered the look of surprise on Leo's face.

Leo didn't comment on the correction. Instead, he said, "I'm sorry that we… that we let you trade your soul for Wyatt."

Chris blinked. That wasn't what he had expected.

"I'm not sorry," he said honestly.

"Trading one child for another is never…" Leo stopped, the words breaking off. His tone was brittle, unsure. "I would rather it have been me. That's why I…" Again, he stopped.

Chris didn't know what to say. He should be angry. He _was_ angry. Leo had nearly ruined _everything_ – and for what? To appease his own guilt? To make himself feel better?

Even if Chris had already been conceived at that point, even if Leo sacrificing his own soul hadn't threatened Chris' existence, it _still_ wouldn't have been what Chris wanted. But what he wanted hadn't mattered to Leo then, just like it never seemed to matter to Piper. Did everyone in the entire family always believe that they knew best?

Chris snorted. It wasn't a surprise Wyatt had ended up with a God complex, given his genes.

Orbs appeared abruptly in the middle of the attic, and Chris and Leo both turned in surprise to face the being that appeared.

It was Michael.

"Blessed be, Leo," the Elder said, gazing at Leo was undisguised suspicion. "You're back."

"I am," Leo agreed. He paused, then said darkly, "You don't seem pleased."

Michael tilted his head to the side and contemplated Leo. "I am mostly just surprised. This is… unexpected."

"Well, I was a little surprised as well," Leo answered flatly. "But I am happy to be back with my family." He glanced at Chris with a slight smile.

Chris studied Leo, concerned. The Leo that he had spoken to in the kitchen had been bewildered and… diffident. Almost afraid. But the Leo that was facing Michael now, the one that was staring at the other Elder with a look of distaste on his features and a hardness in his eyes…

This was a Leo who was not afraid of a fight.

It was a strange and somewhat disturbing juxtaposition. How could Leo be afraid of Paige and Phoebe and yet show no fear at all before an Elder?

"Did Lucifer say anything to you when he released you?" Michael questioned.

"No," Leo said. "I didn't even see him. I didn't realize I had been released until I found myself in Piper's bedroom."

That was remarkably different from the experience that Chris had had, and again, the white-lighter was hit with the suspicion that Lucifer was still playing them.

Michael turned to Chris. "Did you make a deal with Lucifer?" he asked. His tone was mild, curious. Nonthreatening. But underneath that superficial veneer, Chris could sense something else, something darker. Michael was desperate for answers.

Chris opened his mouth to answer, then paused. He and Leo exchanged a meaningful look. They _couldn't_ tell Michael about the deal. No matter how much the Elder might want an explanation, the entire thing would undo itself if they gave him an answer. Lucifer had made sure of that.

"Don't worry," Chris said finally, "we didn't do anything that you'd disapprove of."

Michael's eyes widened ever so slightly. He turned away from Chris and Leo and said with a sneer in his voice, "You organized many of our sons and daughters to turn against us. I'm not sure how you can think that is something that we would _approve_ of."

"We didn't…" Chris started, and then once again had to stop. They had done exactly what Michael was accusing them of, but Chris _still_ couldn't explain why.

"We warned the Charmed Ones not to have any more dealings with Lucifer," Michael said coolly.

"You were content to leave me with him?" Leo practically hissed.

Michael spun around. "_You_ made the deal," he snapped. "It was _your_ fault that you ended up in Lucifer's grasp. Don't act as though you were innocent and we were abandoning you."

"You _were_ abandoning me," Leo said furiously. "You were abandoning this entire family."

"Leo," Chris warned in a low tone. The last thing they needed right now was a vicious argument with an Elder of Michael's power.

"We were attempting to protect the world, Leo," Michael defended himself. "Or do you really believe that Lucifer is no threat to us, that making deals with him will not end up hurting us all?"

"So… my soul for the Greater Good," Leo said quietly, venom dripping from his tone. "What is one life weighed against an entire world?" He paused, glaring at Michael just long enough for the other Elder to know exactly where this statement was going, then, "Where have I heard _that_ before?"

"Leo!" Chris said again, louder this time. He didn't quite agree with Leo's assessment of Michael's actions. Although there was no love lost between Chris and the Elders, and although he was utterly appalled by how quickly they had turned their backs on Leo, he didn't think it was right to compare Michael to Gideon.

Michael, at least, had not wanted to kill an innocent baby.

Unless, Chris had to admit, the Elders were aware of who Chris was and just how close he had come to not existing. In which case, Michael had been content to let Chris – both the adult and the baby – disappear in order to protect the world.

Michael had gone completely still at Leo's words. His face was pale, nearly white, and his eyes flashed with a dangerous fury.

"Careful, Leo," the Elder warned in a hushed tone, "you don't want us to recycle you, do you?"

"Stop it!" Chris said, raising his voice. "Just… don't. Can't you see we're all on the same side?"

_That_ was a statement he had never thought he'd make. He had never been good at keeping the peace. He'd learned some of the skills necessary for it in the future when he'd been responsible for keeping warring factions of the Resistance from hurting each other. But it didn't come naturally to him.

Still, they were on the same side, whether Michael realized it or not. Gideon was gone, Wyatt was no longer in danger, and Lucifer had given up his claim on Leo. Life could go back to normal – or as normal as it ever was for a Halliwell.

"Are we?" Michael asked. He gave Chris a long look. "Then tell me what you did. Tell me how you convinced Lucifer to release Leo."

"I _can't_," Chris said desperately.

"Very well," Michael said finally. His tone turned brisk, businesslike. "Leo, your access to Up There has been revoked. The other Elders will hold a meeting to discuss what to do with you. I will let you know what we decide. In the mean time…" his eyes traveled briefly to Chris, "I suggest you say goodbye to Christopher. We will be returning him to the future soon."

"Wait! You can't just…" Leo started, but Michael had already orbed away.

* * *

><p>"Sigmund, you cannot possibly be suggesting that we recycle Leo," Zola said softly. "He's an <em>Elder<em>, and he's done so much good for us."

"Indeed," Sigmund agreed with a nod of his head, his tone serious. "But now he has been corrupted by Lucifer. If we recycle him now, then we will be preserving Leo's memory as the memory of a white-lighter and Elder who saved us from annihilation at the hands of the Titans. If we do not, if we stand by and allow him to turn completely evil… he will always be remembered as the Elder who tried to destroy us."

"I agree," Aravis chimed in.

"The Charmed Ones will never let us," Zola said.

"Then we must deal with them as well," Michael said gravely. He glanced around at the Elders seated before him in the white marble meeting chamber. Each sat on a white marble chair, and each chair was decorated with thin veins of gold. It was a sacred place, a place the Elders very rarely went. It was used only for the most important of meetings, and it greatly upset him that they were meeting in this room now.

"There is no way to deal with them," an Elder said, pursing her lips together. "The Charmed Ones have long since proven that they will not follow our rules."

"We have allowed them leeway because of all the good they've done," argued another Elder. "Let us not forget the number of times they have saved our world. Let us not forget the number of times they have saved _us_."

"No one is discounting the good they have done," Michael said.

"But we _have_ allowed them to flout our rules," Sigmund argued. "And though they have done an incredible amount of good, because they have gotten away with ignoring us for years, they are _not_ going to start listening now."

"Besides," another said with a heavy sigh, "we have not yet fully discussed the possibility that Lucifer has corrupted them, too. We do not know what deal they made with the devil, and they are unwilling to tell us."

"Isn't that _proof_ that they have turned?" Sigmund asked. He received several incredulous stares, and so he hurried on, "If they had not turned, wouldn't they just tell us what they had done? Why would they feel a need to hide their actions unless those actions were evil?"

Michael considered this carefully. The argument made sense. He didn't like to even consider the possibility, but he couldn't deny the logic.

And more than that… Leo had been different. The confrontation in the attic, the argument… there had been something darker, something angrier, something more dangerous about the Elder.

"We cannot recycle the Charmed Ones," Aravis said wearily. "They are not white-lighters or Elders."

"We could erase their memories," Zola suggested.

"Or them," Sigmund muttered under his breath.

Michael ignored Sigmund and instead focused on Zola. "That is a possibility," he conceded. "We could bind their powers and erase their memories, give them new ones."

"They could always unbind their powers," Sigmund argued.

"Only if they remembered that they had magic in the first place," Zola countered.

"You don't think Lucifer will remind them of that?" Sigmund snapped back. He turned towards the other Elders, appealing to them. "Is there anywhere we can send the Charmed Ones where Lucifer won't be able to reach them? If erasing their memories is meant to protect them from him, will it really work?"

"And what about everyone else?" Aravis said. "The gypsies, dwarves, leprechauns, fairies, witches, oracles… what about all the other members of our world that the Charmed Ones convinced to turn on us? Should we erase their memories as well?"

"Would that even work?"

"At least if we did all that," Zola said, "it would take Lucifer a long time to return all of their memories."

"He's immortal," Michael said pointedly. "He has time." He leaned back in his marble seat and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, already feeling the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes.

"I cannot condone erasing _all_ of them," Zola said.

"I agree," Michael murmured tiredly. "But instead of binding the Charmed Ones' powers, we could remove them. Cage the Charmed powers in the same way we caged the powers of the gods and goddesses. They will be safer up here – the Charmed Ones will not be able to reach them, and even Lucifer would have a hard time getting to them."

"We can protect them with the same enchantments that are on a witch's Book of Shadows," another Elder suggested. "Then they will protect themselves from evil."

"Assuming the powers haven't already turned evil. A witch's power responds to her orientation. It is possible that these powers have already been corrupted."

"We can still remove them," Michael said. "Evil or not, we can trap them here, out of the Charmed One's reach."

"And what happens when the Charmed Ones go to their new allies for help?" another Elder demanded bitterly.

"Demons cannot get up here," Michael replied.

"I don't mean the demons or even Lucifer," came the reply. "What happens when the Charmed Ones go to the dwarves or the leprechauns or the gypsies? What happens when they go to _those_ allies?"

A complete silence met that question.

"No matter how we look at this," Sigmund said gravely, "Leo and the Charmed Ones have betrayed us. The question, now, is how far are we willing to go to protect our world?"

* * *

><p>"I feel like I should have a cigar," Lucifer said idly, twirling his sunglasses around in one hand. "Isn't that what humans do to celebrate? Smoke a cigar?"<p>

"You are about fifty years out of date," Lola answered with a smirk. "Besides, isn't it a little too early to celebrate?"

"Of course not," Lucifer replied. "We've already won. Give it twenty-four hours… and the magical community of Good will be in the midst of a civil war."

* * *

><p>AN: The title of this chapter is taken from Dante's _Inferno_. In his book, the ninth circle of hell (which is the deepest part of hell) is reserved for traitors.


	18. Apologies

Chapter Fifteen: Apologies

Leo had said he was _sorry_.

The subsequent conversation with Michael had diverted Leo to other topics – namely the possibility that the Elders would send Chris back to the future and then attempt to recycle Leo, or worse – but Chris was still stuck on one simple fact.

Leo had said he was sorry.

Chris watched warily as Piper ranted on about the insufferable Elders and their interfering ways. He'd stopped listening a while ago. He'd heard this all before; his mother had despised the Elders in the future, too. She had nothing new to say, and Chris had more pressing concerns.

Leo was always sorry. Always. In the future, those had been the most common words out of his mouth. _Chris, I'm so sorry, buddy, but…_

God, Chris hated apologies.

"They can't just send him back!" Piper finished, throwing her hands into the air. Leo and Chris both instinctively ducked, but nothing exploded. Clearly, Piper had a better handle on her emotions than either of them had realized.

"It's not a big deal," Chris interrupted.

Piper and Leo turned to stare at him. Leo's expression was one of mild surprise, but Piper looked furious. It took Chris a moment to realize that she wasn't angry at him – not really. This was just residual from her fury at the Elders, and underneath the veneer of anger was hurt.

She was upset that he would so casually dismiss his eminent departure.

He sighed. "It's not like we didn't know that I'd go back some day," he said pointedly. "I worked to save the future, Piper. I want to go back, want to experience it. Bianca will be alive and Wyatt will be good and I…"

He stopped. The very idea that he'd have his brother and his fiancée back nearly took his breath away.

"Chris, sweetie," Piper started, and then flinched at the way Chris stiffened when she used that endearment. There was a moment of tense silence, and then she said, "It's not that we don't want you to go back eventually. But the Elders don't have the right to decide _when_."

"It's over," Chris said. "Wyatt is good, Leo is back, I've been…" he grimaced and shot a quick look at Piper's stomach, furious at the universe that it would force him to even think about something like this, "_conceived_."

Leo gave Piper a sickeningly sweet smile, and Piper practically glowed as she rested her hands on her stomach.

The look in Piper's eyes right then… it unnerved Chris for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

He pushed away the thought and said, "It's time for me to go back."

Piper looked like she wanted to argue, but it was Leo who spoke first. "I'd like a chance to get to know you."

Chris snorted. "You've had several months to get to know me, Leo," he snapped. He jerked his head at Piper's stomach and added, "And you'll have several more years – assuming you stick around long enough to act like a father."

Leo blanched and Piper looked shocked.

"Of course I'll be around," Leo said. "How could you think I wouldn't?"

Chris rubbed at his eyes. "Never mind," he said, "it doesn't matter. I'm just… ready, alright? I'm ready to go back."

He wasn't sure if he was eager to return to the future because he wanted to see what it was like or because he just really wanted to get out of the past. It didn't matter either way, he decided, because it didn't impact his decision. He wanted out.

"I don't like the idea of you leaving yet," Piper said. "I… we'd miss you. Like Leo said, we want a chance to get to know you."

"You can get to know me in the future," Chris forced himself to say.

Unless, of course, she died when he turned fourteen. She hadn't gotten a chance to know him in the old future. She'd only known the innocent young boy who loved Wyatt and thought his mother was the most amazing person in the world and had never experienced loss.

She'd never gotten to know the man Chris would become, the man he _had_ become.

"But you're my son," Leo said. "I want to know you now."

"You do know me now," Chris argued. "You've known me for months. I'm not a different person now than I was when I first came to the past. Just because you know now that we're related doesn't mean…"

"Chris, please…" Piper interrupted.

Chris turned away from Leo and faced her. "You always want to fix things," he said. "You always tried. You were always…" He shook his head, trying to push away those thoughts. The lines between Piper and Mom had blurred, and he wasn't sure which side he was standing on anymore.

And he couldn't afford that. Not just because it was easier if she was Piper and he didn't have to deal with her as though she was his mother, but also because of the memories that came rushing back.

She couldn't be his mother, because he didn't want to lose her all over again.

He could still remember with such vivid clarity exactly _when_ and _how_ his mother had died.

But she was still staring at him, and those eyes reminded him too much of his mother, of the stern glares she would give whenever he and Wyatt misbehaved. Being at the receiving end of one of the glares was not something he could take, not now, not when he was trying so desperately to keep Piper and Mom separate in his head. It brought up too many memories, too much scary déjà vu that he just wasn't ready to deal with yet.

"It's over," he said again, his voice firm and hard. "It's _over_. I get to go home."

"But you're the one who was convinced that this _wasn't_ over," Piper countered, "that Lucifer was still playing us somehow."

Chris winced. "Yeah…" He looked away from Piper, unable to stop the growing unease in his stomach. It was true that he didn't believe this was over. But he _didn't_ want to stay, and at this point he wasn't entirely sure that his continued presence would even do any good. He didn't know what Lucifer was after so how could he fight it?

Besides, the Charmed Ones were plenty capable of taking care of themselves.

_And this isn't just your way of rationalizing your desire to run?_ a little voice – one that sounded unnervingly like Bianca – echoed in his mind.

"Let's just… let's have a family meeting," Piper suggested, a hint of desperation in her voice. "We can talk about this… talk about Lucifer. Maybe we can figure out what he's planning…"

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw Leo flinch at the suggestion of calling Paige and Phoebe. That was interesting – what had Leo's hell been like? – but Chris didn't have much time to think about it. He had to focus instead on Piper's idea, because he really didn't want to get roped into what would undoubtedly be another awkward meeting.

"This isn't necessary, Piper," he said.

Piper shook her head and said stubbornly, "Yes, it _is_." As usual, she seemed to be giving no thought to the desires of anyone else and Chris knew by the firm set of her jaw and the hard look in her eyes that he had no chance of talking her out of this.

But he'd inherited her stubbornness. "There isn't anything to talk about, Piper. None of us have any idea what Lucifer is after. All I have is a gut feeling, and that's hardly enough to go on."

"Well, we have to do _something_," Piper protested. "Paige!" she called towards the ceiling, knowing her half white-lighter sister would hear her wherever she was. "Family meeting in ten minutes. Bring Phoebe."

"Piper…"

"Why do you think I won't be around when you're older?" Leo asked, apparently deciding now was as good a time as any to go back to the previous topic of conversation. "Did I… leave?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Just forget it, okay?"

"I can't forget it," Leo replied. "Whatever it was I did, I'm sorry…"

"_Don't_," Chris cut him off sharply, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't apologize. Don't tell me that you're sorry."

Leo looked at him, aghast. "But…" he started, but Chris waved his hand, signaling for Leo to stop.

He didn't want to hear it.

Leo wasn't the only one who was always apologizing in the future. Wyatt had, too. The first year after his mother died and before Wyatt had fully turned, when he had started down the path to darkness but had still had some light in him…

_I'm sorry I couldn't save Mom, but I can make those demons pay for her death._

_I'm sorry I can't be there for you right now, Chris, but I work to do. _

_I'm sorry I didn't come home last night, Chris, and I'm sorry I worried you, but I needed to stop that demonic clan. _

And that final apology.

_I'm sorry, Chris, but you need to pick a side._

His mother, too, had been full of apologies. Usually they were attached to excuses for Leo, and her own anger had never been fully covered by the sympathy she tried to convey. It had taken him a long time to learn that the anger wasn't directed entirely at Leo, that there were others to blame.

It had taken him a long time to realize that some of that anger was directed inward – that she blamed herself for Leo's absence.

And then there had been her final words as she lay bleeding on the kitchen floor – _Chris, sweetie, I'm so sorry…_

Chris' thoughts were disrupted by the arrival of Paige and Phoebe, who appeared in the kitchen in bright white and blue orbs. Phoebe looked worn and a little frayed around the edges, the emotions in the house clearly getting to her. But she forced a smile for everyone else's benefit, even if the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Paige let go of Phoebe's arm and asked in immediate concern. "Is everything alright?"

"Michael paid us a visit," Piper said in a clipped tone.

Paige's expression hardened, and Chris bit back a smirk at that. But the smirk faded a second later, and he felt unease. Paige had not gotten along well with the Elders in the future, either, and it was moments like these that reminded him that the lines he used to separate the Charmed Ones of the present from his family in the future were already starting to blur.

"What did he want?" Phoebe asked, leaning against the wall as though she needed the support to stay upright. Even with the empathy-blocking potion both her sisters and Chris had taken, it was clear that she could feel enough to cause her pain.

Not for the first time, Chris was glad he had never inherited the power of empathy.

"He wanted to know about the deal we had made with Lucifer," Leo answered, his body tense.

"You can't tell him!" Paige said automatically. "Lucifer will come back for Chris' soul."

"We know," Piper assured her.

"We didn't tell him," Chris said. "He threatened to send me back to the future," and here Chris cast an annoyed look at Piper and Leo as he added, "which I don't have a problem with. But he also barred Leo from Up There and the Elders are currently deciding what to do with him."

"They can't take him," Phoebe protested. "We just got him back."

"We don't know what they're planning," Leo said softly, not looking at Phoebe.

"But they are planning something, and I doubt it is to offer you a medal," Piper retorted pointedly. "Between that and Chris' belief that Lucifer is still up to something…" She shrugged. "I'm worried."

"What can we do to protect Leo from the other Elders?" Paige asked, looking to the others for ideas.

"We could point out to them why angering us isn't a good idea," Piper suggested, her lips twisting into an icy smirk.

"I don't think violence is the right answer," Leo murmured.

Piper huffed, displeased.

"Maybe there is some kind of spell in the Book," Paige said. "I mean… what do we really think the Elders are going to do? At worst, recycle him. So maybe we can find a spell that will prevent them from being able to do that. Something to… I don't know…" She trailed off, grasping at ideas.

"It's possible that there is a spell that would cloak his soul from them," Chris said, nodding his head in agreement with Paige's idea. "If they can't get to his soul, they can't recycle it."

"Alright, so we'll look in the Book," Piper said. "And if there is nothing there, we'll try to write a spell. But what about Lucifer?"

"I hate to say this, but… I think we might just need to wait for him to make the next move," Phoebe said wearily. Piper, Leo, and Paige all gave her incredulous looks, but Chris had to agree with her assessment.

"We don't know what he is planning," he said. "It's too dangerous to try to talk to him now – who knows what he could do if we continue getting involved with him. I think our best bet is to wait." Piper was still gaping, and Chris sighed. "Believe me, I don't like it any better than you do."

"What about Lola?" Paige asked. "What if we talk to her? We still have to hold up our end of the deal. We need to arrange for someone to try to vanquish her and then save her from it so that the premonition doesn't come true."

Phoebe smiled slightly. "That was such a convoluted plan," she remarked.

"But it worked," Piper replied, giving Leo and Chris warm smiles.

Leo returned the smile; Chris did not.

"I'll look in the Book for a spell to protect Leo from the Elders," Paige said. "Chris, can you contact Lola?"

Chris nodded, hating that he was being pulled into these plans that would force him to stay in the past longer, but not seeing any way out of it.

"I'll go with Chris," Leo said quickly.

Chris bit back a groan as Piper nodded in agreement. "Phoebe and I can help Paige with the spell," the eldest Halliwell said.

And just like that, Chris found himself aligned with the last person he wanted to spend any time with, working on a task he didn't really want to be doing in the first place. But Piper didn't seem to notice his reluctance – or she just didn't care. As usual, everything had worked out the way she wanted.

And Chris couldn't even argue with it, because it was a good plan, and perhaps the only viable option they had to protect Leo and the rest of the family.

As the three sisters left the kitchen, Chris turned to Leo and said in a businesslike manner, "We can try summoning Lola, although Piper has…"

"Why don't you call her Mom?" Leo asked.

Chris flinched. "She's not my mother yet," Chris said, although that argument was no longer strictly true. She was pregnant with him, and that made her his mother, even if he wasn't born yet. Even if she hadn't raised him.

Perhaps that would have been the more accurate reply. He didn't call her Mom because she was not the mother he had known, the one who had raised him, the one he had loved unconditionally for the first fourteen years of his life and had idealized after her death.

Leo looked like he wanted to protest, but Chris didn't want to hear it, so he said quickly, "As I was saying, because Piper has already summoned Lola twice in the past several days, she's probably figured out a way to prevent herself from being summoned again. A blocking spell or something."

"But she knows Piper isn't going to hurt her," Leo countered. "They made a deal."

"Well, technically I made the deal with her," Chris answered. "And our deals aren't enforced the way Lucifer's are. We could go back on them at any time and not suffer any consequences. She knows that, and even if she assumes that we aren't going to betray her, she'll still be a little wary." He paused, then added wryly, "Also, most demons don't like being summoned by good witches. It's the principle of the thing – they shouldn't be at the beck and call of their enemies."

"You know a lot about how demons think," Leo commented.

There was no accusation in his voice – just curiosity. But Chris stiffened nonetheless.

"I do," he said shortly.

"Why do you…" Leo started, and then stopped. There was a hesitancy in his voice that Chris found jarring and out-of-place. One of the many things he had disliked about both this Leo and his father was the way he always spoke as though he knew more than anyone else.

Of course, as a white-lighter and then Elder he _had_ known more, and he had never tried to put other people down because of their lack of knowledge. But Chris had been somewhat rebellious as a child and a teenager, and while he had been a complete Mama's boy, hanging off of every word his mother said, he had not felt the same way about Leo.

It was harder to keep Leo and Dad separate in his mind. There were substantial differences between Piper and Mom, between Paige and Phoebe and Aunt Paige and Aunt Phoebe. But not between Leo and Dad.

Except this hesitancy, this diffidence. And that wasn't even a true difference – it was more likely an effect of whatever type of hell Lucifer had sent Leo's soul to.

"Why are you so angry with me?" Leo asked finally. "What did I do?"

"It's not…" Chris pressed his hands into the kitchen counter, willing himself to stay calm. The emotions were bubbling in his chest again, threatening to explode.

He could so vividly remember what it had been like to be six and have his father miss his birthday. It was the first time it had happened, but it wouldn't be the last. And the little boy inside of him, the one who had never gotten over that disappointment, wanted to lash out.

Chris had spent years repressing his feelings, forcing them down instead of dealing with them. It hadn't been healthy, but it had been necessary. He'd been fighting a war – he didn't have time for therapy.

But those repressed emotions were quite eager to break free.

"Future consequences," he said at last.

"But I can't change if you don't tell me what I did wrong," Leo protested desperately. Chris remained silent, and Leo said, "Maybe you didn't come back just to save Wyatt. Maybe you came back to save us."

"I doubt it," Chris said with a callous laugh.

"I'm sorry," Leo murmured.

"Stop saying that!" Chris snapped.

"I don't know what else to say," Leo replied honestly. "Why do you hate apologies so much?"

Chris narrowed his eyes. "You know what?" he said. "I'll go look for Lola myself. You stay here. Maybe the sisters could use your help."

And without waiting for a reply, he orbed away.

He reappeared in the Underworld. With his orb trail blocked by the magics of the Underworld, Leo wouldn't be able to find him here.

He leaned against the cold stone wall of the cavernous corridor he had orbed into and cursed furiously. Tears pricked at his eyes but he blinked them away, unwilling to let himself fall apart now.

Why did he hate apologies so much?

It wasn't the apologies from Wyatt and his parents that had finally convinced him of the utter worthlessness of the word _sorry_. They certainly hadn't helped, of course, and they had even served a purpose in setting the stage for his later fury. They had made him predisposed towards believing that apologies were pointless, but it wasn't until later that he had really come to loathe the word.

That moment had come when he had been the one to utter it.

He closed his eyes, remembering.

The room had been full of Resistance members, but Chris had been paying attention to only two of them. Even Bianca, standing at his side with her hand resting lightly on his arm, had faded from his awareness. All of his focus had been on Aunt Paige and Grandpa.

He'd still been clutching that damned potion vile in his hands and _her_ blood had still been on his clothes, and he'd looked at the only two family members he had left besides Wyatt – and did Wyatt even count? – and he'd apologized.

He'd choked out words that didn't do justice to the pain and horror he felt. They were trivial – almost offensive. How could such a commonplace word fully encompass everything he had done, everything he hadn't wanted to do, everything they had all lost?

_I'm sorry. I didn't have a choice. She was standing in the way, and she wouldn't let me through – she tried to stop me. I'm sorry, but I had to. I… I didn't want… didn't mean… I killed Prue. I'm so sorry._

Sorry.

Everyone was always sorry.

And he'd long since learned that it never made anything better.

* * *

><p>"Why are you afraid of me?"<p>

Leo nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Phoebe's voice. He'd been standing in the kitchen trying to sense Chris, but to no avail. He knew it wouldn't work – Chris had to be in the Underworld at the moment – but it didn't stop him from trying. And he'd been so wrapped up in finding his missing son that he'd missed the sound of Phoebe's entrance.

His eyes darted towards the door, but no one else entered the kitchen. He was alone. With Phoebe.

"I'm not afraid of you," he said.

"I'm an empath, Leo," Phoebe said. "I can sense your fear." She took a step closer. "Whatever Lucifer did to you…"

"He didn't do anything to me," Leo said bitterly.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "He trapped you in hell," she countered.

"I trapped myself in hell," Leo answered quietly. "And hell wasn't something Lucifer had made up. It was just… me."

He knew his statement didn't make any sense to Phoebe, but he couldn't explain it to her without elaborating on hell, and he really didn't want to start talking about it.

"You remember hell?" Phoebe asked, surprised.

Leo nodded.

"Chris doesn't," Phoebe mused. "I wonder why that is."

"I'm sure Lucifer has the ability to create different hells for different people," Leo replied. He looked away from Phoebe. He wasn't sure if he envied Chris for not being able to remember. Was it better or worse to feel the aftermath of hell without remembering the thing itself?

"You're afraid, Leo," Phoebe said, turning the conversation back to her initial question. "I can feel it." She reached out, placed a hand on his shoulder and ignored the way he jerked away from her touch. "I just want to help you, but I can't do that if you won't talk to me."

"I'm not afraid of you," Leo said again. And it was the truth.

Phoebe studied him, then asked, "Then why does your fear skyrocket every time I enter the room? You feel the same way about Paige, too."

Leo pressed his lips into a flat line and determinedly said nothing.

"_Come on_, Leo," Phoebe pressed. "The Elders might send Chris back to the future soon, who knows what they are going to try to do to you… Piper's worried and upset, and my head feels like it is continually being crushed by all the emotions in this house. And you're not helping."

It had never really bothered Leo that he was expected to put the Charmed Ones first. As their white-lighter, that had been his job, and while he'd occasionally been less than thrilled with the inconveniences they'd cause him, he'd accepted it. Then he'd fallen in love with Piper and it was no longer just his job to protect her – it was his calling, his mission, his very life's goal.

He'd gone as far as defying direct orders from the Elders, and that had resulted in his wings getting clipped. And they hadn't even been together at the time. In fact, she'd been dating someone else.

That hadn't mattered. She was everything to him, and he was happy to sacrifice anything for her.

Until he became an Elder. That was the one time that he hadn't been able to give in to what she had wanted, and it had cost him.

It had cost her, too. And it had cost Wyatt.

But now Phoebe wanted him to overcome his own problems so that he could help Piper and he just… couldn't.

Of course, he didn't believe that he was the only one making sacrifices in this relationship, and he wasn't ignoring the numerous times Piper had saved him from demons – both internal and external.

He wanted to help her, wanted to ease her worry and share her burdens, wanted them to be partners again the way they were before the divorce.

But hell had made him wary.

"We just want to help you," Phoebe said softly.

"You can't," Leo answered, anger licking at his insides like flames. Why wouldn't Phoebe just _listen_ to him?

His anger must have shown in his expression – or maybe Phoebe had sensed it. Either way, she took a surprised step backwards.

Hell had been killing Gideon.

There had been no sense of time in hell – or wherever it was Lucifer had sent him. It wasn't that he had relived a memory over and over; it was that he had never left that memory. That split-second had been stretched out into what felt like eternity. He was forever killing Gideon.

The hatred he had felt when actually killing Gideon… and the rage, the pain, the desperation, the fear… the _betrayal_… was all he had felt in hell. Those emotions had filled him, wreaking havoc on his psyche, never letting go, never releasing him from their torment.

The vicious triumph that had flared within him at the sight of Gideon's body writhing in pain as the electricity from Leo's hands coursed through him…

Leo had felt that for an eternity, too.

Killing Gideon – a former mentor, former friend – and being pleased about it was the worst thing Leo had ever done.

It didn't matter that it had only been days in hell, and not years or decades or centuries. Without a sense of time, without a belief that this would ever end, those emotions had become such a fundamental part of him that he didn't know how to feel anything else. Now that he was out of hell, the littlest thing made him enraged.

His love for Piper was enough to overcome the more negative emotions. That love was stronger then even Lucifer's manipulations, and he felt safer around her, knowing that his love for her would keep him grounded, keep him sane.

But, though he loved Paige and Phoebe dearly, it wasn't stronger than the hatred within him.

He wasn't afraid of Phoebe. He was afraid _for_ her. He was afraid that his anger would break through his self-control and he'd do something he couldn't take back.

His fears only materialized when it was someone he loved before him. He hadn't minded arguing with Michael, hadn't cared about the rage simmering underneath the surface then, because he didn't care if he hurt Michael. As much as he had at one point been in awe of the other Elder – and even now had a begrudging respect for him – it didn't worry him that he might end up lashing out.

He wasn't a big fan of the other Elders at the moment. And the feeling seemed to be mutual.

"Leo," Phoebe breathed, worry etched into the lines of her face, "please…"

But whatever she was about to say was cut off by the sudden pull Leo felt tugging at his chest. His eyes went wide and he locked gazes with Phoebe for a fraction of a second. He saw his own apprehension reflected in her expression, and knew she was sensing his emotions.

"The Elders…" he started, but was unable to finish the sentence before his body burst into a million tiny orbs that were drawn upwards, towards Up There.

The Elders had summoned him.


	19. Cross Road Blues

A/N: The statement _"Our blood flows green and our hearts beat gold, and we no longer cower in the shadows"_ is paraphrased from _Lucky Charmed_. It's what Seamus says to convince the other leprechauns to fight the demon attacking them (and then Seamus is killed by the demon).

Chapter Sixteen: Cross Road Blues

"So that's it, then? You're leaving me?"

Talia was a young white-lighter. Her death had only been a decade or so ago, and it had taken her a while to adjust to the fact that she _was_ dead. It had taken her even longer to adjust to her powers, but her need to help people was just as strong after her death as it had been during her life, and it had aided her in the transition from normal human to guardian angel.

She had accepted it all – the powers, the rules, and the responsibilities – without question, and when the order came from the Elders to leave three of the witches that she was currently guiding, she had obeyed.

Now one of those witches was demanding answers.

Sara had been a plain, shy, and easily over-looked teenager who had inherited Wiccan powers upon her father's death two years previously. She had been bewildered and scared, and had spent several months denying that she even had these powers. But with Talia's help, she had slowly accepted her new role in the world, and had even made the transition from a meek and quiet wallflower to a spunky and determined fighter-of-evil.

And now Talia was leaving her.

And Talia was leaving simply because the Elders – beings Sara had never met and knew very little about – had ordered it.

"Sara, I don't have a choice," Talia said, begging for her charge to understand.

Sara snorted. "Right," she snapped irritably. She paused, averting her eyes, before asking in a quieter tone, "What did I do wrong?"

There was something in her voice, something painfully reminiscent of the girl she had once been, the girl who merely accepted whatever life threw at her and assumed it was somehow her fault.

Talia shrugged helplessly. "I don't… I don't know," she admitted. She knew that Talia had joined in with other members of the magical community in a recent fight against several demonic clans, and this had upset the Elders. But she couldn't understand how or why this would cause the Elders to do something so drastic as strip Sara of her white-lighter.

Sara nodded mutely and said nothing.

"I'm sure it won't be for long," Talia continued, desperate to offer some sort of comfort, even if it was likely false hope. "Just… just remember what I taught you, and everything will be fine."

Sara chewed her lip, then said with a hint of accusation in her voice, "One of the things you taught me was that a witch only loses her white-lighter if she turns evil. If she is passed redemption. If the Elders are giving up on her."

"They're not giving up on you!" Talia said fiercely.

Sara gave her a look of utter disbelief. Then she laughed dully. "Sure, whatever," she answered, and it was abundantly clear from her voice that she did not believe what Talia had said.

Talia hesitated, then said, "Sara, I'm sorry…"

"Yeah," Sara interrupted, her voice tight and choked with emotion. "Me, too." She turned away. "I guess I'll see you around. Or not."

She started to walk away, and Talia called out almost frantically, "Sara, wait." The witch paused, glancing over her shoulder, and Talia struggled for something to say, something that would convey what she felt.

But how could she properly express her own sorrow, guilt, confusion, and fear?

Finally, she said, "I can't speak for the Elders. I don't know why they are doing this. But whatever it is… I promise you that _I _am not giving up on you. And I won't, not ever. No matter what _they_ say."

* * *

><p>"They took Leo!"<p>

Piper looked up in surprise as Phoebe came bursting into the attic, her eyes wild with panic. It took a moment for the empath's words to register, and when they did, the color drained from Piper's face.

"The Elders?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

Phoebe nodded. "I think they summoned him," she explained. "He certainly didn't orb out of his own free will."

Piper's fearful expression hardened into a mask of fury and she turned to Paige. "Can you orb us Up There?" she asked, her words flat and cold.

Paige glanced between her two sisters. "Maybe…" she said hesitantly, a bit unsure, "but they might be blocking me." She tilted her head up, glancing towards the ceiling. After a pause, she added, "I can't even sense where Leo is."

Piper's lips flattened into a thin line. "Can we summon Leo here?" she asked, moving towards the Book with a determined look on her features.

"The Elders are probably blocking that, too," Phoebe said wearily. She was clearly tired, but there was also anger and fearing in her voice as she added, "For all we know, they are watching us even as we speak, preparing to thwart whatever rescue attempt we come up with."

Piper accepted this, feeling slightly paranoid but also knowing that there was a very good chance that Phoebe was right. The Elders must have known that, once they summoned Leo, the Charmed Ones would come after them. The Elders would do everything in their power to prevent that – and the Elders had a lot of power at their disposal.

Phoebe suddenly beckoned for Piper and Paige to come closer, and the three of them formed a small huddle in the middle of the attic. "If we can't bring Leo to us, why don't we send ourselves to him?" Phoebe suggested in a barely audible whisper. Her eyes darted around quickly, as though looking for eavesdroppers.

"Don't you think they'll be protected against that?" Piper countered in her own whisper. She wasn't sure the whispering was doing any good - was it possible the Elders were able to hear anything they said, even when spoken in low tones?

Although her distrust of the Elders had certainly grown after her confrontation with Gideon and the subsequent reactions by the other Elders to his death, she could not deny that she had always been a little wary of them watching her. It had only been a few years ago that she had been convinced they were constantly spying on her, mostly because they had, on more than one occasion, called Leo away during sex.

"Maybe," Phoebe murmured. "But if they are watching us now, they've already heard us suggest orbing Up There and summoning Leo to us. They will be prepared for those two. This is the only one that they haven't heard us discuss, so it is our best bet."

Piper nodded slowly, a bit reluctantly. She didn't like the idea of confronting the Elders on their own turf. She wanted the home court advantage for this... but more than that, she just wanted Leo back. If she had to go to the Elders to do it, then that was what she would do.

"It will need to be something strong enough to get through the Elders' enchantments," Paige whispered. "A power of three spell?"

"Yes," Piper agreed quietly. "And if we can't find something in the Book, then we'll need to write our own." She paused for a moment, thinking through the rough outline of a plan, then said, "Paige, can you orb Wyatt over to Daryl and Shelia's house to see if they can watch him?"

Paige nodded and stepped out of the huddle.

It was then that Phoebe asked at a normal volume, "What about Chris?"

"He's in the Underworld, isn't he?" Paige answered, pausing to look back at Phoebe with a frown on her face. Then her eyes widened in realization and she said anxiously, "Unless the Elders have summoned him, too."

"They can't," Piper said. "As long as he is in the Underworld, he's protected from them. They can't reach him there." She felt a flicker of satisfaction in her chest at that thought. Her son was safe, at least for now. It wasn't much, not with Leo currently gone – and possibly about to be permanently removed from her life – but she would take what she could get.

It was Phoebe who ruined the moment, however, by remarking quietly, "But as soon as he leaves the Underworld, he'll be in danger."

"Then we need to warn him," Paige said.

"How?" Phoebe countered. "If he's in the Underworld, he can't hear us. And if we summon him here, he'll no longer be in the Underworld, and that will put him in danger."

Piper was torn. On the one hand, Leo needed their help, and he needed it _now_. They didn't have time to waste by orbing to the Underworld and beginning the search for Chris. But on the other hand, if they didn't find Chris and warn him, he would be in danger, and she couldn't stand by and do nothing while the Elders possibly targeted her son.

Finally, she said, "Alright, Paige get Wyatt over to Shelia, and Phoebe start working on our plan. I'll be back in a little bit."

"Where are you going?" Paige demanded.

"We need to warn Chris," she said simply. "So I'll use a spell to send me to him. That way he doesn't have to leave the Underworld."

Paige and Phoebe both acquiesced to Piper's instructions with a nod, and Piper left the attic. As she walked down the stairs, she couldn't help the feeling of fear that was rapidly growing in her stomach. This was going to get ugly.

None of them had addressed the problem of what they would do _after_. Rescuing Leo wasn't enough – they had to find a way to protect him. The idea of a spell to block his soul from the Elders had the most promise, but it would take time to perfect, and they didn't have time. The Elders wouldn't let them just leave with Leo; they'd fight back.

The only safe place at the moment seemed to be the Underworld, but Piper knew they couldn't send Leo to hide there for very long. The Underworld posed its own dangers, and it wouldn't do to save Leo from the Elders just to lose him to a dark-lighter.

Besides, all three sisters would be fugitives from the Elders as well, and the demons and warlocks in the Underworld could kill them.

This plan was getting more and more dangerous with every passing moment.

* * *

><p>"We know why you are doing this," Finnegan said, clutching his shillelagh in one hand and glaring at the Elder in front of him. "Don't think you can hide it."<p>

Giselle frowned at the leprechaun. He had apparently been elected as a spokesperson for the group gathered around them, though there was also another leprechaun - Liam, she thought his name might have been - standing next to Finnegan. And this one, too, seemed inclined to argue vocally with her.

"I don't understand the accusation," she said mildly, doing her best to hide the surprise she felt at his furious words. The leprechauns had always treated her – as well as all the other Elders – with the utmost respect. To find the respect turned to anger was a little unnerving.

But she supposed she should have expected it. The Charmed Ones could be _quite_ convincing when they wanted to be, and they had no doubt already turned the leprechauns into their allies.

"Don't you, lassie?" Liam asked, and Giselle blinked. She'd never been called _lassie_ before.

"It is because you're at odds with the Charmed Ones now, ain't it?" Finnegan shook his head and said, "They've done more good for us than you have."

"That is not true," Giselle argued softly. "None of it is true. We are not at odds with them…"

"We've heard the rumors."

"Aye," Finnegan agreed, his eyes blazing. "But they helped us. _Paige_ helped us, made us remember what was worth fighting for, why we had our luck in the first place."

"Aye!" came the shouts from several of the leprechauns gathered.

Giselle sighed. "We are not cutting off ties with you," she said firmly. "We just want to…"

"To interfere, to convince us to let you run our lives," Liam said. "But we aren't goin' to do that." He smiled thinly, and said, "Our blood flows green and our hearts beat gold, and we no longer cower in the shadows."

Another round of cheers met that statement, and Giselle thought idly that the speech must have had connotations that she didn't understand.

The Elder bit her tongue. Although this constant interrupting was getting on her nerves, it wouldn't do any good to raise her voice against these creatures. Leprechauns were not naturally community-oriented, but when they stood together they were a force to be reckoned with. They had their pride, and even the appearance of condescension on the part of the Elders would not be taken well.

"We don't want any of that," Giselle said finally. "But we have a list of beings were are concerned about, and we are merely requesting that you not grace them with your luck. They don't need your help."

"Maybe they do," Liam argued. "Maybe we owe them."

"Aye," Finnegan agreed. He paused, then said pointedly, "We have not forgotten everythin' the Charmed Ones have done for us."

Giselle winced at the accusation. "We have not, either," she defended herself. "But even the Charmed Ones can be… corrupted."

Finnegan smiled coldly. "So can Elders."

* * *

><p>Escaping having to deal with Leo had given Chris some peace, but as Piper suddenly appeared in front of him in a burst of light, he thought bitterly that it seemed he was doomed to trade one awkward and unpleasant confrontation for another. And at the moment, Piper was the one he wanted to see the least.<p>

"Oh, thank God," Piper said, stepping forward and throwing her arms around his neck.

He stood there, stiff and uncomfortable, as she hugged him. She didn't seem to notice that he wasn't hugging her back, but when he finally decided to attempt to disentangle himself from her, she refused to completely let go. She stepped back and dropped one arm to her side, while letting the other slide from his shoulder to his forearm.

She stood there, holding his arm and looking at him with such _relief_.

"Uh… Piper?"

Her expression hardened. "The Elders summoned Leo."

"_What_?" Chris had expected the Elders to act quickly, but not _this_ quickly. In the future, it had always taken days for the Elders to decided on any course of action, and he had been operating under the assumption that this time would be the same.

But apparently the Elders didn't need days to make up their minds about Leo. They had already reached a consensus – and Chris doubted it was anything good.

"We were worried they might have summoned you, too," Piper said. "But as long as you are in the Underworld, they can't reach you." She paused, then looked down at his chest with a frown of disapproval and asked, "What happened to your clothes?"

He was covered in mud and now, as a result of the hug, Piper had mud sticking to her clothing as well.

Chris sighed. "Demon attack," he said simply, waving away her concern. "I'm fine."

He hadn't really planned on fighting any demons. At first all he'd wanted was to escape Leo's earnest questions and apologies, and once he'd pushed aside his feelings about _that_ conversation, the only thing that had mattered was finding Lola. But it was the Underworld and there were demons everywhere and the attacks had apparently been unavoidable.

Piper was eyeing his clothes with distaste. She let go of his arm and touched his muddy clothes with the tips of her fingers. "You'll have to stay down here for a little while," she said reluctantly, "just until we can get things sorted out with the Elders. But… I'll bring you different clothes."

Chris blinked. "The Elders are coming after Leo, you're about to start a confrontation with them that could turn ugly very quickly, and you're worried about my _clothes_?" he demanded incredulously.

"It won't turn ugly," Piper said. "We don't want a fight with them, we just want Leo back." She paused, then added, "Besides, I'll have the force-field to protect me."

"What force-field?" Chris asked in bewilderment.

"The one that I have now that I'm pregnant with you," Piper said, and she beamed as she rested her hands on her stomach. There was something about her expression – a softness, a glow…

It made Chris' stomach clench painfully, and he quickly looked away.

Clearing his throat, he said, "You never had a force-field when you were pregnant with… with me…" He didn't like even thinking about the fact that there was a miniature version of himself inside of her. It was awkward and uncomfortable and forced him to think about exactly what Piper and Leo must have done to _make_ that version of him.

"But I had one with Wyatt," Piper argued, brow furrowed in confusion. "I was pretty much invincible."

Chris leaned against the cold stone wall of the corridor they were currently standing in and said, "You spent your second and third trimester at Magic School so that you'd be safe from demon attacks. At least, that's what you…" He stopped abruptly and averted his gaze. "That's what my mother always told me."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Piper flinch at his blatant refusal to call her his mother. He felt a twinge of guilt but ignored it.

"Huh," Piper said thoughtfully. "I guess maybe it was Wyatt who had the force-field, not me."

That brought up all sorts of things Chris didn't want to think about. This bit of information shouldn't have really changed anything - it wasn't like he didn't already know just how powerful Wyatt was. But still...

He couldn't hold back the dark laugh that escaped his lips, and he found himself saying with a bitterness he couldn't hide,"He had powers from the womb? From the _womb_?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Like I didn't have enough of an inferiority complex already." Piper looked as though she was about to say something sympathetic or reassuring, and so Chris quickly hurried on, "I haven't found Lola yet." He gestured to his dirty clothing and elaborated, "I got distracted."

Piper accepted this in silence, though he could tell by the wary look in her eyes that she was struggling not to remark on how much she didn't like the fact that he had been fighting with demons.

"I need to get back to Paige and Phoebe now," she said at last. "We'll come find you as soon as we rescue Leo. Don't leave the Underworld."

Chris heaved a sigh. "They're not going to recycle me, Piper," he said. "They just want to send me back to the future, and that's going to happen soon enough anyway…"

"No!" Piper interrupted. Her eyes flashed. She took a deep breath and calmed down, then said, "I know you'll need to return to the future, and I won't stop you from doing that. But I don't trust the Elders. We're not going to do this on their terms."

Chris wanted to argue, but she did have at least one good point – the Elders couldn't be trusted. At least not right now.

So instead, he said, "Be careful."

Piper patted her stomach with one hand and said, "Don't worry. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

* * *

><p>"Don't you <em>dare<em> presume to have any say in what we do," Freyja snarled, her words dripping with venom. She was the Queen of the Valkyries and no one – not even an Elder – had the right to orb into _her_ island and make demands on _her_ sisters.

Miguel had been an Elder for a few centuries, and before that, he had been the head of a powerful clan of witches. He was not used to having his opinion so thoroughly disregarded. He knew that the Valkyries were an independent community, and not beholden to the Elders in any way. He knew that they were all on the same side, and that the Valkyries would play an important role in the final battle with Evil. He knew that Freyja valued her sisters' independence more than almost anything else, and that his very presence was an affront to her.

But he also knew that the Valkyries had once kidnapped an Elder, and that this action was likely done at the behest of the Charmed One's white-lighter. And he knew that, while the Valkyries generally protected the secrecy of their island with a single-minded ferocity, Freya had not only allowed her sisterhood to be infiltrated by the Charmed Ones, but she had also allowed the eldest Charmed One to then leave the sisterhood with the knowledge of the island's location intact. And he knew that, although the Valkyries did not consider the happenings outside of the island to be any of their concern beyond their usual business of collecting the souls of fallen warriors, a few of them had joined with the Charmed Ones in their recent vanquish of several demonic clans.

If the Charmed Ones could convince Freyja to break so many of her own rules, what else could they convince the Valkyries to do?

Miguel said in a tone of forced calm, "We have no desire to interfere in what you do on your own island, provided it does not put any of our community in harm's way."

"Ah, and you think we've harmed you?" Mist asked. Freyja sent her a silencing look, and Mist bit her lip to refrain from saying anything else. But she still felt as though this confrontation was her fault. Freyja had not wanted to join the vanquish, but Mist had convinced her to because it had been Christopher and Piper asking for help.

On the other side of Freyja, Kara was glowering at the Elder. She, too, had been willing to join this fight because of the kinship she still felt for Piper. It was hard to earn Kara's trust, but once given, it was rarely taken back.

"I think," Miguel said, switching his attention from Freyja to Mist, "that you have acted rashly and without thinking through the consequences."

"Don't patronize us," Freyja snapped.

Miguel inclined his head. "My apologies," he said in a clipped tone. There was nothing apologetic in his expression.

Freyja curled her hand into a fist. "Leave," she ordered tersely. "And do not come back."

All around her, the gathered Valkyries tensed, as though preparing for the possibility of violence.

* * *

><p>Leo had never been in this room before. He hadn't even known it <em>existed<em>. But all it took was one quick glance around for him to know this was not a place he wanted to be, and not a place that would be easy to get out of.

He stood in the center of a circular room, surrounded on all sides by a raised platform. There were no doors or windows – clearly the only way in was through magical means. There were white marbles seats in front of him, and he was separated from those seats by a golden bar that wrapped around the entirety of the room.

Each of the seats was taken by an Elder.

He recognized many of them. The seat in the center was filled by an Elder Leo had only met once. His name was Darius, and he was the oldest of the Elders. His dark skin was filled with deep lines and his age settled heavily over him, pressing down on his shoulders.

To his right sat Michael, who looked practically youthful by comparison. To his left sat Zola, who was regarding Leo with sympathy and apprehension. Behind the three Elders sat seven others; Sigmund, a female Elder named Diana, Aravis, and four that Leo did not know. Sigmund was gazing at him with open hostility, but Leo could see the fear in the eyes of the others.

He scanned the room briefly, looking for any means of escape. There was nothing to distract the Elders, nothing to allow him a quick get away. And the air was practically pulsing with magic, magic designed to trap him here, to prevent him from leaving.

"Leo Wyatt," Michael spoke, his voice slow and measured and ringing with authority, "you have been called before the Council of Elders to discuss the accusation of treason."

Leo wasn't sure what shocked him more: that this was a Council of Elders or that he had been accused of treason.

The Council was rarely called. It was a judicial body, created for the single purpose of declaring judgment against Elders suspected of turning to Evil. If Leo had brought his concerns about Gideon to the other Elders, this is possibly where Gideon would have ended up – though given that particular Elder's apparent cunning and ruthlessness, it would not have happened before he had succeeded in turning Wyatt evil.

The last time the Council had been called was nearly two centuries ago, although Leo didn't know any of what had happened then. Very few Elders had ever been involved in such proceedings, and none ever spoke about the details of the experience.

Then there was the fact that he had been accused of betraying the Elders. How could they actually believe that his actions qualified as treason? He had been reckless, yes, and stubborn. And he'd not listened to their demands. But he'd refused to follow their rules before, and the most they had ever done was temporarily clip his wings.

This was going to be different.

And he suspected that the consequences could end up being so much more than he could bear.

Leo was drawn out of his horrified thoughts by Michael's voice as the other Elder continued, "You are hereby charged with the following: that you knowingly and willfully conspired with Lucifer and the demonic sorceress Lola; that you encouraged your charges to conspire with Lucifer, and through them turned much of the magical community against us; that you deliberately and without permission killed another Elder."

"Gideon?" Leo sputtered. "You're bringing _Gideon_ into this?" His vision shimmered red with pent-up rage as he struggled to hold back his fury and incredulity. How could they use Gideon's death against him? "He tried to murder my son! I was protecting my family." He paused, then added spitefully, "And I did not conspire with _anyone_ to betray you."

"And yet you refuse to tell us why Lucifer released you," Michael said calmly, unmoved by Leo's anger.

"I _can't_," Leo retorted, feeling his frustration bubbling just below the surface. It was all he could do to keep from losing control, but he knew that if he was to have any chance of getting out of the situation in one piece, he could not afford to lose his temper.

Sigmund snorted. "Can't?" he challenged, eyes darkening with dislike and suspicion. "Or won't?"

"_Can't_," Leo snarled. "I don't have a choice."

"There is always a choice," Sigmund shot back. "_Always_. But, as usual, you seem to believe that the rules do not apply to you."

Leo bit his lip to keep back the angry words that wanted to spill forth. Sigmund had been against him from the very beginning, and he was finding the other Elder's suspicions hard to tolerate. He had been friends with Sigmund once, before Gideon's betrayal, but he could see that Sigmund was unwilling to forgive him for Gideon's death.

Why couldn't he understand that it was Gideon who had betrayed them? Why couldn't the others see that it was Gideon who had caused this?

"Sigmund, enough," Michael said firmly. Sigmund was seething, but he acquiesced to Michael's request and lapsed into silence.

Leo studied the Elders, assessing them. Zola had always supported Leo, even if he'd done it quietly and hesitantly. Leo was fairly certain he could convince Zola to support him now, too. But he was less sure about the others. Aravis had never liked Leo, but she was at least fair and would hear him out even if she was predisposed to turn against him. Diana and Michael were both unknowns, but if the rumors about Darius were true, the ancient Elder would willingly do whatever he believed was necessary to protect the magical community, and judging by the hardness of his expression, he seemed to think that Leo was a threat.

Leo could not guess what the unknown Elders would think of him, but Sigmund was downright antagonistic.

Had he already lost?

"Leo Wyatt," Michael continued, "how do you respond to these charges?"

"Not guilty," Leo replied. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond – did they want an elaborate defense? All he knew was that he had to stress just how wrong they were about all of this.

"We will start with the oldest of the charges, then," Michael said. "What do you say in your defense to the killing of Gideon?"

"He tried to murder my son!" Leo hissed once again. How many times would he have to say that before they _listened_? How many times would he have to repeat himself before they understood that protecting Wyatt had been the most important thing in the world to him?

How many times would he have to defend himself before they realized that Gideon did not deserve their protection?

"And how did you know this would come to pass?" Sigmund asked coolly.

"Chris said…"

"Ah, so Christopher knew who had targeted your son?" Sigmund interrupted, eyebrow raised. "He came back from the future with that knowledge?"

"No, Lucifer told him that…"

"You admit then, that you did work with Lucifer?"

Leo clenched his teeth. "Lucifer can't lie," he said, curling his hands into fists. He stared Sigmund straight in the eye and asked, "Are you telling me you _don't_ believe that Gideon was trying to kill Wyatt?"

Sigmund flinched, and Leo was slightly surprised by that reaction. It took him a moment to process, and then his jaw dropped in disbelief as a possibility occurred to him.

"Did you know that Gideon was targeting my son?" he asked.

"Whether or not Gideon was attempting to harm your son does not change the fact that you made a deal with Lucifer. You know this is forbidden," Diana said softly, speaking before Sigmund had a chance to reply.

Leo glared at her. "Chris sold his soul to save his brother and the entire world. I only sold my soul to rescue him from that fate." He paused, then added, "He is my son, too."

His eyes darted back to Sigmund. The other Elder had not answered Leo's accusation.

"And so Chris matters more than your obligation to your fellow Elders and the rest of the world?" Diana asked mildly.

"_Yes_!"

"And you would do anything to protect him," Aravis added, leaning forward. Her eyes were unusually bright as she focused on Leo. "Anything at all."

Leo blinked, sensing the trap. "I didn't betray the Elders," he said stubbornly.

But Aravis' question lingered in the air, and Leo knew he hadn't given a good enough answer. He didn't know what answer he could give, didn't know how to respond. Would he betray the Elders to save Chris? He would ignore their orders and openly defy him; that was not in question. But to actually betray them, to side with Evil over them…

Despite his hatred of Gideon's actions and his current disgust for the Elders' high-handed maneuvering, they still represented Good.

But Chris was his son.

"You killed another Elder to save your son," one of the Elders Leo did not recognize said. "It seems, then, that you were willing to betray us…"

"Gideon's death was not a betrayal!" Leo cried out in frustration. "He wasn't one of us anymore!"

"That is not for you to decide," Sigmund countered furiously, jumping to his feet. His face flushed with anger as he continued fiercely, "Gideon was your mentor and our friend. He had served as an Elder since long before your mortal self was born! The good he had done for the world, the lives he had saved…"

"Does not condone murdering a child! You can't justify his actions based on the person he used to be," Leo ground out, shaking his head. The blood was pounding in his ears as his body shook with barely controlled rage. How dare they act like Gideon's actions were pardonable?

There was no doubt in his mind now - Sigmund had known about Gideon's plans. But why hadn't he done anything? Why hadn't he told anyone?

"So you kill an Elder then, and show no remorse," another Elder Leo did not know asked mildly. There was no accusation in his tone, just curiosity.

"Remorse?" Leo scoffed. "For protecting my family? How could I show remorse for something I don't regret?"

"You acted alone…"

"If I had brought the matter to the Elders, you would have wanted to debate it and then have some sort of trial for Gideon," Leo snapped.

"And you don't like caution? You don't like due process?" Aravis demanded, eyebrows raised.

"You would have wasted time and Gideon would have had the opportunity to go after Wyatt!" Leo explained, his anger once again surging in his chest. Why did they keep wasting time protecting Gideon? He shook his head, looked away. "I couldn't take that chance."

"So you held yourself above our rules and killed him," Michael said gravely. "Surely you can understand why those actions are worrisome."

"No, I don't understand it, actually," Leo snarled bitterly. "I gave up everything for you. Piper, my children… I left behind an entire life I had on Earth so that I could become an Elder and…"

"And now it would seem that you are back in the eldest Charmed One's arms," Sigmund snapped. "Now it would seem that you have your family back." He turned towards Darius. "He shows no remorse and he refuses to tell us anything about Lucifer. What other conclusion should we draw but that he has turned on us?"

"Turned on you?" Leo spat. "And tell me, Sigmund - did _you_ know of Gideon's plans?"

"That is irrelevant," Sigmund answered, his voice wavering slightly.

"Irrelevant..." Leo started, his rage boiling over to the physical manifestation of electricity crackling at his fingertips. He paused, looking down in surprise, and the other Elders did the same.

"Then tell us why Lucifer released your soul," Diana said in her gentle tone, but Leo could see the anxiety in her eyes. She seemed to think that this confrontation would soon turn violent, and was desperate to stop that. "If you did not betray us, surely you can tell us what happened?"

"If I tell you about the deal with Lucifer, it will undo itself," Leo snapped. He pressed his fingers against his palm, willing the electricity to disappear. But even though he succeeded at that, he could still feel his power rushing through his hands, waiting for an opportunity to explode.

"That is… convenient," Sigmund drawled, his words laced with disbelief.

"It's the truth!" Leo spat. "If I tell you, Lucifer will take Chris' soul, and I will _not_ allow that to happen!"

Another of the Elders Leo did not recognize leaned forward and said, "Leo Wyatt, it seems you do not understand the severity of the allegations we have made against you."

Leo laughed darkly. "You are asking me to sacrifice Chris to save myself." For all their claim that they viewed all the witches of the world as their children, the Elders did not truly understand what it meant to be a parent. Leo lifted his chin defiantly. "I will not do it."

"Then we have no choice but to recycle you," Darius said, speaking for the first time since the meeting had started.

"You can't do that," Leo protested weakly. Except that they could do that – they had the necessary power.

"We can and we will," Michael said. "This is your last chance, Leo."

But Leo shook his head mutely.

Darius sighed. "So be it."

"Wait!" Leo interrupted desperately. "At least let me say goodbye to Piper and my sons." If he could just get out of here, he could hide in the Underworld until Piper, Phoebe, and Paige came up with a plan to protect him.

"I'm sorry," Michael said, "but they have already been a dangerous influence on you. We cannot allow…"

"A dangerous influence?" Leo asked incredulously, eyes narrowing. "They are the best things in my life."

Sigmund curled his lip. "You did not so defiantly flout our rules until you met them," he sneered. "They have corrupted you." He paused, regarding Leo thoughtfully, then said, "But don't worry, they won't miss you. They won't even remember who you are."

Leo gaped. "You can't take their memories of me," he argued, thinking of when the Cleaners had erased Wyatt. Piper had felt their son's absence, and all three sisters had quickly realized that parts of their previous day were inexplicably missing. "They'll notice that something is wrong and cast a spell to…"

"They won't cast a spell if they don't remember magic," Michael interrupted. He turned and nodded to Darius, and the oldest Elder rose slowly to his feet. "We are in agreement, then," Michael continued. "Leo is to be recycled."

"_No_!"

The word burst from Leo's lips as the rage that had been simmering below the surface exploded from him. His fury at the very notion that the Elders would take away Piper's memory of magic, completely alter her identify as though she was merely a puppet whose strings they could pull however they pleased, mixed together with his very real fear of losing his family. The electricity jumped from his hands and hit the gold barrier, causing sparks of energy to fill the air and rain down upon them.

Leo's vision narrowed into pinpricks and all he could see was Darius, standing in front of him with his hands raised, prepared to take Leo's soul and recycle it. He would not let Darius do this to him. He would not let the Elders hurt Piper.

He didn't know where the attack came from, but several bolts of electricity fired at him all at once. He retaliated quickly, sending out his own electricity towards the ten Elders before him. The air hummed with the energy, and then grew hot and humid. It was heavy, pressing down on him, and everything was fading…

Pain exploded in his head, and just before Leo's vision turned completely black, he thought he heard the sound of someone laughing.

* * *

><p>The white mist of Up There swirled around Talia, and while the ethereal beauty of the fog usually calmed her, it did nothing to ease the guilt she currently felt. She could still see Sara's face staring at her, eyes begging for answers the white-lighter did not have.<p>

"Talia? Is everything alright?"

The white-lighter started at the voice and turned towards the two white-lighters approaching her. She knew them well - they had become white-lighters around the same time she did, and had gone through the awkward and sometimes painful evolution together. They were her friends, her colleagues… her family. They were people she could trust with anything, including her doubts.

"The Elders ordered me to leave Sara Thompson," she said quietly, glancing between them. "Sara didn't take it well."

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know, Daniel," she admitted. "I don't…" She trailed off, then said diffidently, "They don't trust her. They think she is… dangerous." She glanced from Daniel to the other white-lighter – Emily – and continued, "But it's Sara. I _know_ her. She would never…" She trailed off again, then heaved a sigh. "Whatever it is they think she's done, I just can't imagine that she actually did it…"

"I've heard that you are not the only one who lost a charge today," Emily murmured. "There are rumors of others." She shook her head, puzzled by everything that had happened. "And I thought the Elders usually advocated against giving up on a charge. I mean… shouldn't you have tried to guide her back to our side first?"

"But she's still _on_ our side," Talia protested.

"She must not be," Daniel argued. "If the Elders think she no longer deserves a white-lighter, then she had to have turned."

And that was the crux of the problem. What Daniel said was true; the Elders would not have turned against Sara unless they were sure that she had turned against them. And Talia trusted the Elders implicitly, and she believed in what they did and what they stood for.

And yet…

"What if…" she started, and then stopped, unable to believe that she was really about to say this. "What if the Elders are wrong?"


	20. HalfTruths and Lies

AN: Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I've been out of the country for the past few weeks, and so have had limited access to internet (and time to write). Hopefully I can get the next couple chapters up a bit more quickly.

* * *

><p>Chapter Seventeen: Half Truths and Lies<p>

Dying was a miserable experience.

Well, perhaps not always. Some deaths might be peaceful, even quick and painless, but that was not the death that Luke had experienced. His had been slow and painful – he supposed that death by fire always was.

It had been during the riots in Germany in 1542, what historians now referred to as part of the Protestant Reformation. He'd been an innocent bystander caught up in the hysteria, imprisoned on the accusation of heretical beliefs, and burned at the stake. It had not been pleasant.

And what had followed death had not been easy, either.

It was impossible to describe the situation to anyone who had not actually undergone the experience of death. The confusion, the fear, the anger… the feeling of being completely lost, of no longer belonging anywhere, of not really knowing if he was still the same person he had been during life.

He'd woken up surrounded by white mist and people in robes, and had initially thought that he'd come to heaven.

Then he'd met Darius.

It was rare, Darius had told him, for a non-magical mortal to become an Elder after death. In the 460 years since his death, Luke had come to realize how correct Darius was in this assessment: only four others had joined the ranks of the Elders this way.

For the first few decades after his death, Luke had felt disoriented. He'd drifted through his own existence, watching as those he had left behind – a wife and three children, four brothers and a sister, friends – grieved for his lost life, but then moved past his death and continued to live their own lives. He'd watched them in bitter silence, angry that he couldn't join them again. He'd felt stuck, trapped… expected to help guide and protect witches that he didn't know, had never even met, but unable to reach out to those he actually loved.

And his religion had always taught him that witches were evil.

Changing his mind on _that_ had taken time and a substantial adjustment in his understanding of the world.

The other Elders had pushed and prodded – sometimes gently and sometimes with great force – until he slowly let go of his resentment and allowed them to give his existence some kind of purpose. In a way, that had saved him: without purpose, he would have slowly gone crazy.

It had taken a few more decades for him to feel comfortable here, to feel as though he _belonged_. But on Earth his wife died, and then his brothers and sister, his friends, his children… and he created a new existence and a new identity for himself.

He became an Elder in more than just name, and the other Elders became his family, and the magical community became his children, and protecting the world became his life's purpose.

But over the centuries, the world had changed around him.

And now, before his very eyes, his family had turned on itself.

Luke stumbled out of the room on shaky feet. Leo's anger and rage during the trial had been palpable. Luke had understood that rage, even if he didn't agree with it. But he'd had biological children once, too, and even if that had been centuries ago, he _did_ understand.

If Gideon had threatened one of his children, what would he have done?

He closed his eyes, feeling his stomach turn over and bile rise in his throat. He doubted he would have struck a deal with Lucifer. No matter how much he loved his children, he just couldn't imagine being _that_ desperate.

But he didn't even know the terms of Leo's deal with Lucifer. Perhaps Leo had been telling the truth and…

_No_. He cut off that line of thought immediately, unwilling to give in to temptation. He couldn't begin to trust Leo, couldn't entertain the possibility that the other Elder hadn't been corrupted, because that would be tantamount to trusting Lucifer, and _that_ would be a disaster.

And yet…

He shook his head. There had only been a few Elders at the trial, and a quick look at all their faces once it was over had convinced him that he was the only one who had doubts.

But he _did_ have doubts.

A hand rested heavily on his shoulders and he opened his eyes to find Michael staring at him gravely.

"It had to be done," Michael said. Luke inclined his head but did not reply.

_It had to be done_ was not an uncommon saying among the Elders. But it rarely applied to something so drastic, and Luke couldn't help but feel that it sounded trite and insincere in the face of what had just happened. Did Michael hear that, too? Did he realize how lightly he had just dismissed the life of another Elder?

Did he care?

Michael was still staring at him, waiting for some sort of response, but Luke had nothing to give. His throat and mouth felt suddenly dry, and he doubted he'd be able to speak even if he wanted to.

He was fortunately saved from having to offer any sort of answer by Darius, who appeared and beckoned Michael over. Michael obediently hurried to join the older Elder, but not before giving Luke one last searching look.

Luke couldn't tear himself away from his conflicted thoughts. He believed in the Elders. He'd seen the good they did. They were arrogant, yes, and heavy-handed in their dealings with those who disagreed with them, but they _were_ good. They cared for the world, perhaps more than even the oldest of white-lighters fully recognized. They truly viewed all good witches as their children, and were daily faced with the impossible task of determining when a witch was passed redemption.

And some witches _did_ turn. Some became evil, and had to be vanquished, and losing them never got easier. But there was a bigger picture, one that most people never took the time to see, and Luke knew that part of being an Elder was figuring out how to reconcile the importance of individual lives with the need to protect the entire world.

Sometimes the Elders leaned too far in one direction, sometimes they leaned too far in the other… but the real issue, Luke reflected, was how to figure out when they had crossed a line.

* * *

><p>Phoebe glanced up from the spell she was writing as bright blue and white lights filled up the attic. Her heart leapt into her throat in naively optimistic anticipation, but then plummeted the moment she realized it wasn't Leo. She should have known better; she'd been at this long enough to know that nothing would ever be that easy.<p>

There were two beings standing before her. The younger of the two – dressed in traditional white-lighter robes – looked around nervously, almost as though she was expecting to be attacked. The older one – wearing the golden robes of an Elder – also had a sense of wariness in his expression, though he seemed more calm than his companion.

Phoebe directed her attention to the Elder and asked with as much venom as she could fit into her voice, "What do you want?"

Only after the words had left her mouth did it occur to her that perhaps she should have said something else, or possibly said nothing at all. Engaging with the Elder was certainly not a good idea, particularly because Piper and Paige were both on the floor below, leaving her alone to face someone more powerful than she was… but it wasn't as though she could ignore the presence of the two beings.

"Where are your sisters?" the Elder asked.

"Why?" Phoebe demanded. She could sense apprehension from both of them, but the white-lighter was also exuding a very strange blend of doubt and determination. It pressed against her mind, its intensity giving her the beginnings of a headache.

God, she hated this power. She couldn't deny the usefulness of her empathy, but why did it have to come with migraines?

"The Elders are going to come after you," the white-lighter said. She blurted out the words, almost as though she was afraid that if she didn't say them now, she would lose her nerve. As her statement echoed in the silence of the attic, she lifted one hand to cover her mouth. It stayed there, suspended in mid-air for a moment, then she dropped it to her side and looked away.

Phoebe frowned. "We know," she said coolly, her gaze flicking back and forth between the two. "Why are you telling me this?" She paused, then asked with a hint of derision, "Have you come to gloat?"

"You don't have a lot of time," the Elder said, ignoring her questions. "The other Elders won't move against you quite yet – they're still discussing the best course of action."

_That_ didn't surprise Phoebe at all._ Of course_ the Elders would feel the need to discuss everything, to hold meetings and debate the finer points of their plans. It seemed that they never moved quickly enough on anything, and while that had frustrated her many times in the past, she wondered vaguely if it would be the only thing that could save them now.

"You will need to hide from them," the Elder continued. "You don't have many options. I suggest using fairy dust to block yourselves. It is probably your best chance at avoiding detection." He glanced up quickly, towards the ceiling, towards Up There, then turned to the white-lighter next to him and said, "We should go."

The woman nodded and reached for his hand. The Elder clearly couldn't orb on his own, and she was serving as his means of transportation.

Phoebe frowned, trying to process everything she had just learned. It was clearly important, and perhaps she could glean more information out of the words if she just contemplated it long enough... But the only thing she could think to ask was, "What about Leo?"

The Elder's expression hardened for a moment, then he said with something approaching sympathy in his tone, "You can't help him anymore. It's done... over. Now you need to save yourselves."

"_Over_?" Phoebe breathed, struggling desperately to keep her voice calm even as her heart dropped heavily into her stomach. "Over?" Anger coursed through her veins, causing her vision to shimmer with the intensity of her hatred for the man standing before her, for everything he represented. "Did you kill him?"

The Elder sighed and said with a hint of impatience in his tone, "Did you not hear what I just said?"

"Tell me what you did to Leo!" Phoebe demanded in response, brushing away his complaints. She was unable to focus on anything but the fact that her brother-in-law might be gone.

Well, ex-brother-in-law, but the distinction didn't really seem to matter anymore.

"He's gone," the Elder answered flatly, and this was not a lie. She could hear the inescapable truth in his blunt words. "Did you hear what I said about the fairy dust?"

"Gone?" Phoebe repeated numbly, not wanting to accept the finality of that word. It would destroy Piper, she knew that. And she couldn't bear the thought of losing yet another sister. Losing Prue had been hard enough, but Piper had always been the one to hold the family together, to serve as the glue that kept very different people from falling apart. How was she supposed to survive without Piper?

What reason was there to keep fighting if she didn't have a family left to protect?

"You must listen to me, Charmed One," the Elder said furiously, cutting into her thoughts. "I am trying to _help_ you!"

_Help_? Phoebe almost laughed at that. How exactly did the Elder think he was helping her? Did he expect her to be grateful that he had delivered the news? He was one of those responsible for what had happened!

But perhaps that was not important at the moment. Perhaps what was important was a different question...

"Why would you want to help us?" Phoebe asked suspiciously.

The Elder was silent for a moment, then he said,"I have my doubts." He slanted a quick look at the white-lighter and added, "And it would appear that I am not the only one who feels this way."

"Oh?" Phoebe pressed, leaning forward.

"A lot of white-lighters have started questioning," the female white-lighter explained. "We've been told to leave behind our charges, the ones that fought with you against the demonic clans. We don't understand... don't believe that they have all turned, been corrupted. We don't believe they are past redemption, don't want to give up on them..."

"Talia, _enough_," the Elder said, quickly putting an end to the white-lighter's explanation. He turned back to Phoebe. "This is all the help we can give you, and it may not be enough. But you need time to sort of this mess, so you must protect yourselves. Go to the fairies. It is your only chance."

"That's it?" Phoebe demanded somewhat incredulously. Her words were coated with anger as she pressed on, "You're not going to try to stop the other Elders? Talk some sense into them? You're willing to stand by and do nothing as they come after us even though you've admitted to having some doubts?"

The Elder narrowed his eyes. "I've already betrayed my family by coming here. You have no idea what this has cost me."

"_Cost you_?" Phoebe spat back. "We lost our mother and our sister for your case, we nearly lost Wyatt, we've now lost Leo... and you actually have the nerve to stand there and talk to me about _sacrifice_?"

"We've lost family, too," the Elder said, eyes darkening. "Don't presume to have a monopoly on loss."

Phoebe laughed harshly. "You're not here because you actually care about what happens to us," she snapped coolly. "If you did care, you would stay and fight at our side, or at least challenge the other Elders' beliefs." She shook her head, turning away from him. She felt oddly disillusioned and didn't know why - it wasn't as though she had any reason to believe that this Elder would be different from all the others she had met.

They were all more concerned with their rules and regulations than they were with the people whose lives they controlled.

"You just want to make yourself feel better," she said. "You want to be able to think that you've actually done something to help... but you don't want to get your hands dirty. Better to let someone else fight the battle. Better to let someone else die."

The Elder was quiet for a long moment, then said softly, "We got our hands dirty when the Titans attacked. Our hands turned red with blood then. And our hands are dirty now, too. Do you really think there will be no consequences for my actions? Do you think disobedience and betrayal among Elders and white-lighters is so easily tolerated?" He reached out and took the white-lighter's arm. "I've given you our warning, it is now up to you what you do with it."

And he nodded to the white-lighter, and they both orbed away.

As Phoebe watched them disappear, she realized with a growing sense of unease that if what the Elder told her was true - and she believed that it was - then it looked like the magical community was on the brink of war.

* * *

><p>The moment Luke reappeared Up There he knew something was wrong. Everything was tense, thick with apprehension, and it briefly reminded him of the way the air grew heavy before a thunderstorm. Something clenched painfully in his stomach and he felt his heart begin to beat rapidly in his chest.<p>

He turned to Talia. "Get out of here," he ordered in a low voice, his words sharp with worry. "Now."

She looked as though she wanted to argue, but perhaps thought better of it. The expression on his face left no room for questions, for arguments or doubts, and she merely gave a silent nod and disappeared in a swirl of blue and white orbs.

Michael stepped out of the white mist, his eyes fixed on Luke, his expression a mix of accusation and disappointment. Behind him, two other Elders appeared, their own faces wearing identical expressions of anger.

Luke stiffened, and waited for judgement.

* * *

><p>This time when Piper appeared in front of Chris with a grim expression on her features, he was not surprised. In fact, he had been half expecting it, filled with a dread he could not explain. Some sixth sense had abruptly made itself known, telling him that things had gotten worse, and Piper's appearance only confirmed what he already suspected.<p>

His hands clenched into fists at his side and he lifted his chin slightly, prepared to face whatever she said without flinching.

"Leo's gone," Piper said bluntly, not bothering to coat the words. There were tears in her eyes and her voice cracked slightly, but she was still holding herself together remarkably well, all things considered.

"Gone?" Chris repeated, frown lines marring the skin on his face. "What do you mean?" Gone was a vague word with far too many potential meanings. But there was one he feared more than all the others, even if he was unwilling to admit to that quite yet. For all his indifference to Leo in the past, the Elder would one day be his father - or perhaps he already was, now that Piper was pregnant.

The semantics of the situation were giving him a headache.

Of course, the entire situation was giving him a migraine.

Piper answered with a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know... the Elder didn't say." She paused, collecting her thoughts, then continued, "I keep hoping that we could reach him somehow but I don't... I don't know..." Her tone was defeated, and it stung Chris, because he had never heard that before. He'd never once known Piper - or his mother - to just give up.

But Chris had to push that thought aside, had to focus on the battle plans and strategies. He had spent so many years as a general fighting a war against his own family, responsible for the safety and well being of so many others, that he frequently thought he no longer knew how to do anything else. That possibility had haunted him in the past - how could he be a good husband to Bianca and a good father to any future children they might have if he was unable to do anything but fight?

It didn't bother him now. It was necessary now, and in some ways, it had been necessary since Bianca's death. Since Wyatt had taken away one of the few good things left in his little brother's life.

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and considered Piper's words. His mind latched onto one part of her statement, and he asked skeptically, "You talked to an Elder?"

Piper nodded slowly. She wasn't looking at him, and he had trouble reading her expression. But her voice was still flat and empty, and that told him enough about her state of mind.

She told him everything Phoebe had learned from her visitors. Chris listened intently, picking apart the words, listening to everything the Elder said... and everything he didn't say. It didn't surprise him that at least one Elder would have doubts, but it did surprise him that the Elder would actually _act_ on those doubts. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard of an Elder defying the majority opinion.

"Where are Phoebe and Paige?" he asked at last.

"Getting fairy dust," Piper answered in that same chillingly flat tone. She leaned against the stone wall of the corridor and looked around, peering into the gloom. Chris knew she was trying to buy a moment to compose herself, to move past her grief over Leo and focus on the problems at hand.

But it wasn't easy. He could do it because he had years of experience, but he'd been a witch his entire life, and Piper had only been one for less than six years.

And she'd never fought in a war.

But that would soon change. They were standing at the beginning of a war, he could see that now. Had they gone too far over the line? Was there any way back, any way to stop the destruction that would surely come? He'd lived through one war, and had no desire to live through another. But did he have a choice?

There were too many questions pressing down on him, too many variables to consider, too many consequences to worry about.

He gritted his teeth and tried to focus, annoyed at how difficult this was. There had been moments of pain and anguish in the past, but overall it had been much better than anything he had experienced in the future. The relative safety of this world - the bright sunlight, the beautiful flowers, the _happiness_ - it had made him let down his guard a little. It had made him relax.

And the devil playing around with his emotions certainly hadn't helped.

"Damn it," he swore under his breath, and Piper gave him a look of censure. He could almost hear his mother's voice in his head - _watch your language, young man_.

He slowly flexed the fingers on each hand, then said, "The Elder never said that Leo was dead. Gone could mean... gone could mean a lot of things." He hoped his voice sounded more optimistic than he felt, because at the moment they all needed a little bit of hope to cling to, and he couldn't offer Piper anything else.

"Paige tried sensing for him," Piper replied glumly, "and Phoebe wrote several spells. I tried scrying for him, too, but we didn't have any luck. We even tried using Wyatt... that's how Paige found him when he was on Valhalla, but..." She stopped, swallowing back a lump in her throat, before pushing on relentlessly, "The Elder said he was _gone_. If he's not dead, he's still somewhere beyond our reach."

Chris frowned. This was all wrong. Where was the Piper he knew growing up, the one who never backed down and never gave up and would fight dirty if she had to? Where was the warrior who had protected him from everything for fourteen years?

But, he reminded himself abruptly, Piper wasn't his mother. She was someone else entirely, and he had to keep that in mind as he planned out their next steps.

Unfortunately, he still had no idea what those next steps should be.

"I'll look around in the Underworld," he said finally. "Listen to the rumors, see what I can find. Maybe the demons know something."

Piper looked at him then, and asked bluntly, "And if they don't?"

He was spared having to come up with an answer by the appearance of Paige and Phoebe. They both held small bags, presumably filled with fairy dust. Phoebe looked worn, tired - had she always had those dark circles under her eyes? Even Paige was tense and wary, practically vibrating with emotion.

Clearly, they were prepared for the worst.

Piper turned towards Paige, and they started talking about something, but Chris wasn't listening. He caught Phoebe staring at him intently, and raised an eyebrow at her. She stepped to his side and said in a low voice, "Did Piper tell you everything?"

He nodded once.

Phoebe chewed her lip and glanced at Piper. Then she placed a hand on Chris' arm and slowly pulled him away from her two sisters, further into the gloom of the corridor. Phoebe continued to watch Piper, but the eldest Charmed Ones wasn't paying any attention to her middle sister, and so the empath said in the same quiet whisper, "It's like she's just given up."

Chris nodded again and said nothing. Phoebe was only repeating what he had already suspected, but she was the empath and she clearly had a better sense of Piper's feelings than he did.

Besides, she knew this Piper, and Chris didn't, not really.

Chris had known that losing Leo would break Piper. He just hadn't given much thought to what that break would look like.

He lifted his chin slightly, gesturing for Phoebe to continue.

Phoebe let out a slow breath. "When I told her what the Elder said... I can't explain it, Chris, I really can't. What she felt was just so... overwhelming. And empty." That didn't make any sense, and she must have seen the confusion in Chris' expression, because she paused, considering her words carefully, before saying, "When we rescued Leo from the Valkeries, when Piper finally remembered what she had lost... her heart broke. I could feel it, like it was my own heart exploding in my chest, filling me with pain I couldn't survive. Pain and anger that made me want to run, made me want to hide and... forget."

Chris shifted uncomfortably. He had never meant to cause Piper that kind of pain. He hadn't thought about those particular consequences - in fact, in some ways, he hadn't thought about any of the consequences beyond what his actions would mean for Wyatt.

But there was no accusation in Phoebe's words. It was just a simple statement, a fact that she was presenting for him.

She sighed heavily.

"This time, though... I didn't feel that. When I told her that the Elder said Leo was gone and that... that I could tell the Elder really _believed_ it, that he wasn't lying, that Leo was beyond our reach, that we couldn't save him... It was like she just... stopped. Gave up. Whatever broke inside of her, it was... it was more than just her heart. It was... it was her identity. It was everything that makes her Piper, makes her my sister."

"What do you think she's going to do?" Chris asked, worry filling his voice. He knew what Piper was capable of, and hated to think of what she might do if she thought she had nothing left to lose. Though he had no fondness for the Elders, he didn't think an all-out war with them was a good idea.

Phoebe looked at him strangely, then said, "Don't you get it, Chris? _Nothing_. She's going to do absolutely nothing."

Chris blinked, confused. He hadn't expected that.

Phoebe pressed on relentlessly, "She's going to cut her losses and run. Take the fairy dust and use it on herself and Wyatt and you. Then she's going to move away from this city, move away from magic and just... be done. With everything. She'll bind Wyatt's powers if she can, and maybe even her own. She's done being a witch, done being a Charmed One, done being a Halliwell."

Phoebe paused and glanced over at Piper, and Chris followed her gaze, trying to wrap his head around how all of this had happened so quickly.

Or maybe it hadn't been quick. Maybe it had been coming for months, and they just hadn't noticed.

Damn Lucifer and all his plans.

"The magical community of Good has gone to war with itself," Phoebe murmured, "and Piper is going to walk away. She doesn't care about the deaths that will undoubtedly result from this. She doesn't care that the Elders' victims will be those who helped us, those who are only in trouble now because they trusted us. And Piper doesn't even care." She rubbed at her eyes. "It's like I've lost my sister, Chris. She's not Piper anymore. And I don't... I don't know how to get her back."


	21. Satan's Spell

Chapter Eighteen: Satan's Spell

Shelia had watched the sisters fight their way through many different disasters. She had seen them pull off spectacular and unexpected victories. But she had seen them lose battles, too, and she had been at Prue's funeral, and she had hugged Phoebe after everything that had happened with Cole Turner, and she had tried to offer Piper comfort when Leo had left her.

She _knew_ them.

And she knew that something was very wrong.

Although she had never been as close to them as her husband had, she did consider them friends. Knowing what they did every single day, what they gave up to protect innocents, she was more than willing to help in any way she could. That usually meant watching Wyatt, and so when Paige had appeared in a swirl of white and blue orbs, Shelia hadn't hesitated to take the blonde toddler from Paige's arms. She hadn't bothered to ask when they would be back for him – they never knew the answer to that question anyway.

And if Paige had seemed a little more worried than usual… well, Shelia hadn't given it any thought at the time.

Now, though…

Shelia watched as Piper held Wyatt closely to her chest. The Halliwell matriarch looked tense and upset, and Wyatt seemed to be picking up on that because his face was scrunched into a frown. Paige and Phoebe were hurrying through the house, sprinkling what appeared to be sparkling gold dust everywhere and whispering rhyming words.

Spells.

"Piper?" Shelia asked, taking a step towards her friend. "Piper, what's going on?"

Piper looked up and met Shelia's gaze. Her expression was hard. Flat. It wasn't unusually for Shelia to see that look of determination in Piper's eyes just before the sisters faced some great evil, but there was something off about it this time.

Something wrong.

Piper jerked her head towards Paige and Phoebe. "It's fairy dust," she said, and then looked back at her son.

Shelia waited a moment for more of an explanation, but none came. Was she supposed to understand what this meant? Was she supposed to know why they were sprinkling _fairy dust_ around her house?

"It's an extra precaution," Paige said finally, walking over to stand next to her sister and nephew. She smiled at Shelia. "I don't think the Elders will come after Wyatt – he has his force-field to protect him, and I doubt they've come up with a way to get around that." She looked at Piper and added, "But we don't want to take any chances."

"Elders?" Shelia repeated. The name sounded familiar, and it took her only a moment to place it. Leo had become an Elder last May, during the attack of the Greek mythological characters. Piper had referred to it as a promotion…

So the Elders were good beings, weren't they?

"I don't like this," Piper murmured. She pressed a kiss into Wyatt's hair, and Shelia saw the hard expression melt into one of pure love. "I don't like leaving him."

"I know, sweetie," Phoebe said as she tossed a handful of sparkling gold dust onto the windowsill on the opposite side of the room, "but we can't take him to the Underworld with us."

Shelia stared at the windowsill for a long moment and wondered if the protection around the house would fade if she tried to do a little dusting. Did they expect her to just leave the glitter everywhere?

Paige must have misinterpreted her expression as one of worry, because she squeezed Shelia's arm and said, "Don't worry, you are perfectly safe here."

Shelia nodded, still not understanding the conversation happening around her.

"I don't see why we have to go back to the Underworld at all," Piper snapped. She looked up, her face flushed with anger, and Wyatt began to fuss.

Phoebe pinched the bridge of her nose and bit back a groan. Once the emotional headache had passed, she exchanged a brief, worried look with Paige. Shelia didn't get it, but she also decided it wasn't worth questioning.

"Piper, we have to…"

"We don't _have_ to do anything," Piper interrupted. She paused for a moment, clearly struggling to regain her composure, and then sighed. She placed Wyatt in his playpen and reached for Paige's arm. "Let's get Chris."

"We'll be back soon," Phoebe said, hurrying across the room and taking Paige's other arm. "And don't worry about all this – it really is just a precautionary measure. You're perfectly safe here."

And with that last reassurance, all three sisters disappeared in a swirl of orbs.

Shelia stared at the spot where they had been standing only moments before, her heart pressing into her throat. Something was very, _very_ wrong, and she had no idea what it was.

Wyatt started to cry.

* * *

><p>It was hard not to think about Leo.<p>

Chris didn't _want_ to think about him. His relationship with his father had been… complicated.

He'd been young then, when his opinions of his father had become set facts that he spent the rest of his life believing, and the circumstances of their relationship had been too convoluted for him to understand at the time.

But if he was honest with himself – and, at least when it came to Leo, _that_ was a very rare occurrence – he would have to admit that the problem had never been that Leo didn't love him.

No, that would have been too simple. A lack of love was an easily identifiable problem. And because all parents are supposed to love their children unconditionally, a lack of love would have also led to a very black-and-white version of events: Leo would be the villain and Chris would be the innocent victim.

But it was far more complex than that – and complexity only made everything so much worse.

But now Leo was gone, perhaps dead. And Chris didn't want to think about that.

Unfortunately, he couldn't just _let go_. He couldn't give up, not like Piper had. He'd inherited her stubbornness, but now she had seemingly lost that particular trait and he still had it in spades.

All of this was making his head hurt, and he sent a silent thank you to whatever Powers determined the abilities that witches were born with that he was not _blessed_ with empathy. He had his own emotions to deal with; he honestly had no idea how he would deal with anyone else's.

The shower of bright orbs signaled the arrival of the three sisters, and he turned his thoughts away from Leo's fate and focused instead on them.

"Wyatt is safe," Piper said the moment she appeared. She smiled, though the smile did not reach her eyes, and Chris let out a breath of relief.

Paige had taken Wyatt to Shelia's as soon as this conflict with the Elders had begun, and they had been operating under the assumption that he would be safe there. But as the Elders had proven that they were no longer content to merely punish Leo for his actions – now they wanted to remove the Charmed Ones and all of their allies from the magical world – Wyatt's safety became of the utmost importance. Chris would not put it past those insufferable beings to kidnap Wyatt under the guise of removing him from his parents' corrupting behavior.

And look how well it had worked out the last time an Elder went after Wyatt…

"Did you hear anything from the demons?" Paige asked. Piper may have given up on this battle, but at least it appeared as though her two sisters were still determined to fight.

Chris nodded, a little worried. "Easy pickings," he said, feeling bile rise in his throat. Paige quirked an eyebrow at him, confused, and he ran a hand through his hair and took a shaky breath. "It's what one of the demons said, when I was eavesdropping. Witches are easy pickings now."

His first plan had been to actually _talk_ to the demons, but that had quickly changed. They hadn't wanted to talk to him. His identity as the Charmed Ones' white-lighter was too well known, and no one would believe that he was interested in anything other than defeating Evil.

And, as it turned out, the demons were in no mood to talk to any agent of Good because they were so completely convinced that they could decimate the other side.

"How?" Paige asked. "Why are witches easier targets now than…"

"In-fighting," Chris interrupted. He thought briefly of Leo and then shoved the thought away and snapped his gaze to Paige's face. "The witches that fought with you no longer have white-lighters or the support of the Elders. It makes them easier targets."

"They don't have anyone to heal them if they get injured," Phoebe murmured, sympathy creeping into her voice. "They just… die."

Chris nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. "And they don't have access to information. Not everyone has as complete a _Book of Shadows_ as we do, and when they are confronted with demons they don't recognize, they turn to the Elders for guidance. Without that guidance, they don't learn who the demons are or how to vanquish them."

"So _some_ of the witches are in danger, but surely not _everyone..._" Phoebe started.

Chris cut her off. "Actually, it turns out that not everyone is entirely pleased by the Elders' actions."

Phoebe nodded. "That tracks with what the Elder told me," she said slowly, turning to look at Paige and Piper. "We know that at least some of the white-lighters…"

"It's not just white-lighters," Chris interrupted once again. "Some Elders are starting to question, too." He frowned thoughtfully. "The Elders have a… a council or sorts. Only a few are involved… ten or eleven, maybe? Whenever judgment has to be passed on another Elder, the council makes the ruling."

"How do you know about that?" Paige asked curiously. "We've never heard anything about it." Then she turned quickly to Piper and Phoebe and added, "We haven't, have we?"

Phoebe shook her head.

Chris studied Piper. It was clear that the eldest Halliwell had no desire to be part of this conversation, and was doing her best to ignore it. But she also hadn't demanded that they stop talking or stormed off yet, and that might possibly be a good sign.

"Chris" Paige prompted, "did you hear me?"

Chris blinked, and then nodded. "It… it came up once," he said, his throat feeling suddenly dry. "I… in the future."

Damn it, was the world conspiring to not let him forget his possibly-dead father?

He swallowed, then said quickly, "Anyway, my point is that, if only a few Elders made the ruling about Leo, it is certainly possible that the Elders not involved in the ruling would oppose it."

"And we know that some of the white-lighters didn't want to abandon their charges," Phoebe added.

"So… our world is turning on itself?" Paige asked.

Chris nodded. "It's not just the witches who no longer have white-lighters who are in danger. We're so busy fighting ourselves, the demons are having a field day."

He closed his eyes and tried to force back the images that rose into the forefront of his mind. He'd been sneaking through the Underworld, looking for demonic clans to spy on, and had found the site of a massacre. An entire coven of witches had been kidnapped and brought to the Underworld. The cave had been stained red with blood – fresh blood – and the bodies had been warm. Their faces had been contorted into looks of terror, and burns had littered some of the figures…

His stomach twisted.

"That bad?" Piper whispered, and he felt her rest a hand on his arm.

He jerked his eyes opened and stepped away from her. A look of hurt passed through her gaze, but then quickly disappeared as her expression fell back into calm stoicism.

"Yes," he said, ignoring the guilt he felt at the emotional pain he had inadvertently caused by his instinctual reaction. "It was that bad."

"We have to do something," Paige said firmly. "We have to help…"

"Why?" Piper demanded, spinning around to glare at her sister. "Why do we have to do anything? Why do we have to risk our lives for _them_?"

"Piper…"

"Don't _Piper_ me," the eldest Halliwell said harshly. "I won't risk what remains of my family just because the Elders are too pig-headed to realize that they are destroying everything." And her hands came to rest on her stomach.

"The entire magical community is at stake," Paige countered.

"And this baby is worth more to me than the rest of the world," Piper answered, looking down at her stomach.

Chris inhaled sharply, though the action went unnoticed by the feuding sisters.

"We can't abandon them," Paige said reasonably.

"The Elders abandoned us," Piper answered, her voice rising in volume as her eyes narrowed into slits of fury. "They _took_ Leo. They took him away from me, _again_. He's probably dead now and I…" She stopped, choking on the words. When she continued, there were tears in her voice, but also a steely determination, "God, I just _can't_ lose more. Prue, Leo, Mom, Grams… I won't lose either of you, and I won't lose Wyatt or Chris. I _won't_."

When Chris had been seven, demons had attacked at the Manor. It wasn't a particularly uncommon occurrence, but it was terrifying nonetheless. As usual, his mother had rushed forward to fight them, and he had found himself wrapped in Wyatt's tight embrace as a blue force-field formed around the two of them, protecting them from the evil in their midst.

Aunt Paige had been there, and she'd been hit in the stomach by a dark-lighter arrow.

Chris could still so vividly remember what had happened. His mother had been out-numbered four-to-one, but when she'd seen her youngest sister fall, her expression had hardened into something that still sent chills down his spine when he thought about it.

The demons had been vanquished and Leo had come to heal Paige and everything had worked out alright in the end, but that expression…

Chris saw it on Piper's face now.

She was not going to back down from this. She saw her family as being in immediate danger, and she was going to do anything – sacrifice anything – to keep them safe.

"Piper, many of these witches are in danger because of _us_," Paige argued, grabbing Piper's arm. "Because they agreed to help us. We _can't_ turn our backs on them."

Piper didn't even falter, didn't stop to consider Paige's words, didn't hesitate. "No," she said firmly, flatly. "I'm done. _We're_ done. I won't lose anyone else."

"I can't _not_ fight," Paige retorted.

"The Angel of Destiny gave us a chance to have a normal life," Piper snapped bitterly. "We should have taken it." She let out a long breath and dropped her arms to her side. "Leo would still be here if we had."

"You don't know that," Paige replied softly, but Piper ignored her.

"Phoebe?" Piper asked, turning to her middle sister. "What do you think?"

"Don't put me in the middle of this," Phoebe said weakly, and Chris suddenly felt a tremendous amount of sympathy for her. Paige had always been the sister most invested in magic. Piper had always been the one desperately seeking a normal life. And Phoebe had been in the middle, constantly wavering back and forth on the issue.

Chris could understand Piper's point of view, even if he was convinced that she was wrong. But he'd felt that way at several points during his time in the Resistance. He'd wanted to give up, wanted to throw in the towel, wanted to know why he was _always_ the one who had to pay the price to save the world.

But Phoebe didn't just understand Piper's point of view; she _felt_ it. The pain, the loss, the grief…

How could anyone consider empathy a _gift_?

He glanced again at Piper and noticed that, once more, her hands had come to rest on her stomach. She was pressing her palms flat against the fabric of her shirt in what was clearly a defensive gesture, as though she could somehow protect her unborn child from the world all around them.

"I don't even understand how this all happened," Phoebe said wearily.

Chris curled his lips into a snarl. Unfortunately, he understood _exactly_ how this had happened.

* * *

><p>The back room of P3 was empty when Chris orbed into it. He knew it was dangerous to be out of the Underworld, knew that the Elders could come after him at any moment. The thought concerned him – at least a little – but he had to take his chances. He couldn't stay in the darkness and dankness of the Underworld much longer. It reminded him too much of the future before the formation of the Resistance, of running and hiding from Wyatt, living in caves and scrounging for food in a destroyed city.<p>

He needed to breathe fresh air again.

And besides, he had a couple potion bottles in his pocket, just in case he ran across any demons. He'd use them on Elders or white-lighters if he had to, although he was hoping it wouldn't come to that.

He glanced around the room. There was almost nothing of his left here. A shirt was draped over the back of the sofa. A pad of paper and a pen sat on the table. A book lay open on a chair.

He sighed.

The scent of vanilla filled the air.

"What's the matter, white-lighter? Feeling a little tired? Perhaps you need something to take your mind off your troubles?"

Chris turned to face Lola. The sorceress smiled at him, lazily running her fingers over a gold bracelet on one wrist. She looked relaxed, even peaceful… but he knew not to let her appearance deceive him. Underneath the casual air, she was tensed and ready for any attack he might throw her way.

"You knew," he said.

She lifted one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Darling," she cooed, "I have _no idea_ what you mean."

"Then what are you doing here, if not to gloat?"

She ran her tongue over cherry red lips and considered his question for a moment. "Well, I _do_ like to gloat," she admitted finally. "Although lately I feel as though you are taking all the fun out of it." She ran a finger suggestively down his chest, and he was abruptly reminded of what Bianca had looked like moments before she had slammed her fist into his chest and started draining his powers.

He stepped backwards.

"You played us," Chris said. His tone was even, as though he was stating a mere fact. "You pretended to turn on Lucifer, but you didn't. Not really."

It was the only conclusion that could be drawn from this entire mess. After the deal Lola had made with the Charmed Ones, she had not returned to seek their protection. She was no fool – if she had truly betrayed Lucifer, she would not have left their side - and their protection - for even a second. The fact that she was _not_ fleeing for her life meant that she knew she wasn't in any danger.

He hadn't mentioned this to the Charmed Ones. He had decided that the last thing the three sisters needed was the added burden of figuring out what to do about Lola. They would no doubt want to go after her immediately, and would allow themselves to be easily distracted from the more pressing problems.

Lola's smile shifted into a smirk. "Of course. Did you really think I would turn on Lucifer?"

"This was what he had planned all along," Chris said, anger seeping into his tone. "A civil war. Elder turned against Elder, white-lighter turned against white-lighter… and witch against witch."

"Lucifer always did have big plans," Lola agreed. "And this one… this one was _beautiful_."

Chris curled his hand into a fist, digging his fingernails into his skin. It was all he could do to keep from lashing out at her.

Although, he reflected bitterly, since she was not actually on their side, there really was no reason to _not_ telekinetically throw her into the wall.

"I would have thought you'd be happier," Lola said.

Chris started, then frowned. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"You wanted the precious Twice Blessed Child to be safe," Lola said softly. She was keeping her distance from him now, perhaps sensing the dangerous shift in his mood, but the scent of her vanilla and cinnamon perfume still filled the air.

"I didn't want to start a civil war," Chris snapped.

Lola tilted her head to the side. "You made a deal with the devil, white-lighter," she chided. "Don't tell me you didn't know that it might come back to _haunt_ you."

"I didn't expect…" Chris stopped. There was no reason to have this conversation with her, no reason to admit that he really hadn't believed that Lucifer could do something like this.

"People do frequently underestimate Lucifer," Lola agreed. She walked towards him, passing the sofa and trailing her fingers along the cushion as she did so. "Or, perhaps I should say that people underestimate themselves. It would be unfair to give Lucifer _all_ the credit."

Chris simply gazed at her, nonplussed.

"Oh, but haven't you figured it out by now?" Lola asked, laughing softly. "Lucifer's power isn't just in his silver tongue. It's that he can see the evil that already exists inside of people, and he can capitalize on it." She stopped in front of him, and reached up to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt.

He caught her hand before she could touch him.

"Do you really think any of this would have worked out so spectacularly well for him if you weren't such damaged goods?" she asked with a pout.

"Damaged goods?" Chris repeated. He shook his head and barked out a laugh. "Is this some sort of insult about how I care about people? How it is a weakness?"

"Oh, no, darling," Lola replied, that damnable smirk still resting on her pretty features. "Do you think your family has the monopoly on martyrdom? You're not the only one who is willing to die for what you believe in."

"And what do you believe in?" Chris asked, dropping her hand and stepping away from her once again.

"Lucifer," she answered simply. She turned away and walked over to the sofa. Settling herself onto the cushions and arranging her flowing blue skirt to carefully cover her long legs, she gave him an unsettlingly scrutinizing stare.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"I'm here to offer you a chance," Lola said, "though I can't guarantee it will do you any good."

Chris hesitated, torn between wanting to hear what she had to say and knowing that he couldn't trust a word that came out of her lips.

Finally, he nodded and gestured for her to continue.

"End the war," she said softly. "Tell the truth."

"The truth?" Chris repeated. It was a question, but Lola didn't answer. She didn't need to: it was obvious enough to Chris.

Tell the Elders the truth about the deal with Lucifer. Tell the Elders the truth about everything. It would make the deal he had with Lucifer null and void, and then Lucifer would have the right to Chris' soul.

But it might end the war.

"Of course, it also might not end the war," Lola said, her words cutting into Chris' thoughts. Chris pursed his lips and didn't say anything, but she continued anyway, "For the sake of honesty, I do feel I should point out that the war is no longer just about your involvement with Lucifer. Witches have died. So have other magical beings, including white-lighters… and Elders. The war is now about trust and freedom and the fact that not everyone thinks the Elders should be able to make unilateral decisions. So perhaps you can get the Elders to stop distrusting you if you tell them the truth – but that doesn't mean _everyone_ is going to be willing to forgive and forget. That doesn't mean the war will end." She paused, then added, "Actually, if I had to guess, I would say it probably _won't_ end the war. But it _is_ your only chance."

Chris folded his arms over his chest. "And if it doesn't end? Then what?"

"Then you lose everything," Lola answered adroitly, her eyes glittering with malicious glee. "The civil war doesn't end, Lucifer takes your soul anyway, and your family falls apart." She leaned forward, her chin resting on the back of her hand, one elbow propped up on her knees. "It _is_ a gamble."

Chris didn't answer. He wasn't entirely sure what to say.

"But then, let us suppose that you do stop the civil war," Lola continued thoughtfully. "It will still take a while to rebuild everything that has just been destroyed. All that trust, just _shattered_… And even if the fighting stops, without the trust, the demons will still have the upper hand, and you'll still lose even _more_ lives…" She trailed off contemplatively, then added, "Not to mention what losing you will do to your _family_."

"And you are just loving this, aren't you?" Chris spat.

"Like I said," Lola replied with yet another smirk, "Lucifer's work was quite the masterpiece this time." Then she paused, inclined her head, and said, "Although, as I said before, we can't give Lucifer all the credit, can we?"

"Get _out_," Chris hissed through clenched teeth.

"Oh, and miss my opportunity to gloat some more?" Lola said with mock disappointment, rising to her feet. "But _darling_…"

Chris acted without thinking, his fury and rage bubbling and boiling in his veins. His vision was shimmering red with anger, and before he even registered the action, the vanquishing potion was flying from his outstretched arm. It struck Lola in the chest, and her body was engulfed in flames.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Then Chris heard clapping behind him, and spun around to see Lucifer standing there.

"Well, well, well…" Lucifer said, wearing a Cheshire Cat grin and staring at Chris with his brilliantly blue eyes, "I guess _that_ particular premonition was inevitable after all."

"You just… you knew that I would…" Chris stammered, stunned at how quickly everything had happened; Phoebe's premonition had come true. "Lola was just expendable to you?"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Of course, Christopher," he said. "I'm playing for bigger stakes. _Everyone_ is expendable." He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and played with them for a moment, still watching Chris carefully.

"What?" Chris snapped.

"I'm just wondering to myself what you are going to do now," Lucifer said. He glanced at the pile of ash that had once been Lola and sighed. "It is so much more fun when I have someone to actually talk to about these things. What is the point of making predictions about how Good will destroy itself if there is no one with whom to place the bet?"

Chris shook his head in disgust.

"Oh, don't be so judgmental," Lucifer said. "The fact that I am even here, talking to you… you should take it as a compliment. I've already said that I respect you, and I don't say that to many people."

"I don't want your respect," Chris growled.

"Well, whether you want it or not is entirely irrelevant," Lucifer answered. "Although, I will admit that my respect isn't generally the best thing to have." He looked down at the sunglasses for a moment, then said, "I tend to ignore those I consider beneath me. Destroying them isn't all that… rewarding."

"And you want to destroy me?" Chris asked, feeling dread build in his stomach.

"Oh, that wasn't the original plan," the devil said airily. "Before I met you, the plan was merely to bring about a civil war and cause unimaginable anguish for one of the most powerfully magical Good families the world has ever seen."

"Oh, is that all?" Chris scoffed sarcastically.

"But now that I've met you, I've added 'do everything possible to destroy _you'_ to my list of ultimate goals. Because I respect you so much." Lucifer slipped the sunglasses on and gave Chris a chilling smile. "So now you know the end game, Christopher. Are you going to roll the dice, sacrifice your soul with the hopes that telling the Elders the truth might stop this war? Or are you going to sit back and watch everything burn? The choice is yours."

And without waiting for a response, the devil disappeared.

* * *

><p>Long after the devil had left, Chris still hadn't rejoined the Charmed Ones. He was back in the Underworld, safely away from Elders, but the conversation with Lola weighed heavily on him, and he didn't want to deal with Piper just yet.<p>

So he found himself sitting in the middle of an abandoned cave, talking to himself.

"Lucifer could obviously block himself from the Elders, and he probably blocked Lola, too. So they couldn't hear what we were saying, but I bet they were aware that we had met. Another reason for them not to trust me."

Chris rubbed at his temples, pushing away the headache that was beginning to form.

"Damn him," he swore. "Conniving bastard."

It was obvious now. Most things were, of course, when looking backwards. But Lucifer's plan – one that had seemed good but perhaps not incredible at the time – was now crystal clear. And it was so ridiculously brilliant that even knowing all the details didn't help figure out a way to beat it.

Lucifer had known that Gideon's betrayal would effect Leo the worst, and that if Leo was the one to kill his old mentor, all the fury and pain that Elders normally kept firmly buried would get knocked loose.

And the devil had known that Leo would be desperate enough to rescue Chris that he would trade his soul without thinking about _the birds and the bees_ consequences, and a little while in hell would be enough for that anger and hatred to take over whatever self-control Leo had left.

Those emotions would color all of his subsequent dealings with the Elders, and while the calm and collected Leo might have been able to convince the Elders not to start a war on their own children, a hurt, betrayed, and rage-filled Leo would simply lash out, giving the Elders more reason not to trust him… or anyone who took his side.

The devil needed an out-of-control Leo, and the Elder had walked right into his trap.

"But Leo wasn't the only one," Chris muttered in disgust. "I did, too."

He got up and started pacing, unable to full comprehend how idiotic he had been.

Lucifer had known that the Charmed Ones would be desperate to get Leo back, and Chris would be desperate not to disappear, and that the family would foolishly believe that – being Halliwells – they could beat him at his own game. He'd tricked them and they hadn't even realized it, hadn't spent enough time considering all the possible ways he could be playing them.

How much of it had been _their_ own pride, and how much had been _his_ whispers in their ear?

"But Lucifer can't lie," Chris growled, kicking at the ground, "so perhaps all of this is our fault."

It wasn't even like he didn't know that Lucifer had once caused a civil war among the Elders. He'd heard that story growing up, and Leo had mentioned it to the sisters when he'd first heard the rumors of Lucifer being active. A civil war among Elders that had nearly destroyed the entire magical community…

_How_ had he not seen this coming?

And then there was the issue of Piper. Lucifer must have known just how much losing Leo would break her. She was drifting away from her calling, giving up on her very identity, and if she lost Chris, she would be destroyed completely. Chris knew that, could see it so very clearly every time he looked at her.

If he told the Elders the truth, gave his soul back to Lucifer, Piper would crumble to pieces. And she would take Paige and Phoebe with her, because Chris knew enough about those two to know that Phoebe would not be able to survive losing another sister and Paige was not yet strong enough to survive being completely alone.

So now he had a choice, and neither one of his options had any guarantee of making the situation better.

He slammed his fist into the wall. "Damn it!" he swore, not caring about the burst of pain in his bones or the smear of blood that appeared on the stone. "I've _done_ this before."

How many times did this argument come up in the future? How many times had people demanded he kill Wyatt to save the future?

And wasn't that just the ironic part of all of it? After successfully fleeing the future so that he would not have to choose between killing his brother or letting the world burn, he now had to be the one to make the choice between destroying his family or letting the entire magical community of Good fall apart.

He had no doubt that Lucifer was gaining an immense amount of pleasure from the situation.

After all, the devil wanted to destroy him.

Wyatt had wanted to do that, too.

Chris glanced down at his bleeding hand, then slowly clenched it into a fist once more, ignoring the throbbing pain.

"Wyatt took away everything that was good in the future," he said aloud. He didn't know if Lucifer was watching him now, spying on him, and it didn't really matter. Whether or not the devil heard these words, Chris still needed to say them. "My friends, my allies, Prue… Bianca. He took away everything and everyone I loved in an effort to turn me to his side. He wanted to destroy me, wanted to replace me with a lackey who would be forever loyal to him."

Chris lifted his chin and looked up at the ceiling of the cave, imagining Lucifer staring down at him.

"And guess what," he said. "Wyatt _failed_."

He knew that he might not be able to save the world, though he would certainly do everything possible to stop the war. And he knew that he might not be able to save his family, though he would sacrifice anything just for a chance to bring Piper back from the edge of destruction. And he knew that this might all end with Lucifer taking his soul.

But he was not going down without a fight.

"You want to play this game, Lucifer?" he said. "Fine. Let's play."


	22. Of Family (part two)

AN: I know I have been gone forever, and all I can say in my defense is that, when working on obtaining a PhD, school and work can occasionally completely take over your life...

Chapter Nineteen: Of Family (part two)

She gasped, and the cup fell from her hands and shattered on the floor.

"Ava?"

The dark-haired gypsy glanced over at the other woman in the room and sighed. "Sorry, Lizzie," she said quietly, shaking her head. "I appear to be a bit of a klutz."

Lizzie frowned. "You've never been one before," she remarked.

Ava didn't reply, but simply lowered herself to her knees and began to pick up the shards of porcelain. She had been friends with Lizzie for years, and while the other girl might understand that Ava was part of a gypsy tribe, she was still dismissive of the idea of gypsy magic. She would scoff if Ava told her that she'd been startled by the tea leaves in her cup.

Lizzie wandered over to the closet in the small apartment kitchen and pulled out a broom and dustpan. "Be careful," she cautioned over her shoulder. "You don't want to cut yourself."

"I know," Ava agreed readily enough.

She placed the larger pieces of porcelain on the table and took the broom and dustpan from Lizzie. As she swept up the smaller pieces and the soggy remains of the tea leaves, she couldn't quite stop the shiver that ran down her spine.

_Be careful_. That was good advice.

* * *

><p>"Phoebe is still talking to Piper," Paige announced as she took a seat on the ground next to Chris. She glanced away from him for a moment, towards her two sisters, then shook her head and looked back at him. "I don't know what is going to happen."<p>

Chris nodded. "What does Phoebe think about all this?" he asked.

Paige chewed her lip for a moment. She knew that _all this_ was referring to Piper's refusal to fight back. While she simply could not understand her eldest sister's point of view, she thought that Phoebe might not only understand it, but even agree with it. But Phoebe had been reluctant to say anything, reluctant to actually give her opinion, and that frustrated Paige.

"I don't know," she admitted. "At the moment, I think she is just trying to get Piper to… talk about the way she feels. I don't know if she agrees with her or not."

Chris frowned, and then nodded slowly. Paige studied his expression, but couldn't read anything in his emotionless gaze. His face was carefully blank.

"So… Lola's dead," Paige said.

"Yeah," Chris answered. He said nothing else, and Paige let out a frustrated breath.

She was certain he hadn't told her everything. After he had rejoined them, he'd simply explained that he'd had a run-in with Lola, confirmed that she had been working with Lucifer the entire time, and had vanquished her. But there was something else, something he wasn't saying, and she wanted to know what it was.

Unfortunately, he seemed very determined not to reveal anything.

She looked around the room. It wasn't like most of the other places they had been in the Underworld. It resembled an empty warehouse, with smooth rock walls and a relatively clean floor. There was no drip of water along the walls, no dampness in the air, no smell of blood and death.

But it was still in the Underworld, which meant that it was still possible that demons could appear at any moment. She and her sisters were practically outlaws, hiding from their own, seeking refuge in enemy territory. It sent chills down her spine to realize just how very alone they were.

"I don't think the Elders killed Leo," Chris said abruptly.

Paige looked at him in surprise, and felt a flicker of hope come to life in her chest. "Really?" she asked, irrationally hating how desperate her voice sounded. But she desperately wanted his words to be true. She hadn't even allowed herself to properly grieve for Leo – in part because she was so focused on this civil war, but mostly because she didn't want to believe that he was truly dead.

"The Elder who visited Phoebe, who gave us the warning… he didn't say that Leo was dead."

"He said that Leo was gone, though," Paige countered.

"Gone, yes," Chris agreed. "But gone isn't dead. Phoebe asked if the Elders had _killed_ Leo, and this Elder specifically said that Leo was _gone_. If Leo was dead, why wouldn't he have just said so?"

"If Leo wasn't dead, why wouldn't he have just said _that_?" Paige retorted.

Chris frowned again, and didn't answer Paige's question. He seemed to be completely lost in his own thoughts, and when he finally did speak, it was clear to Paige that she had missed a few steps in his thinking.

"But I don't know how we would reach him," he mused.

"Leo?" Paige asked. "Do you even know where he is? Assuming he is alive, I mean."

Chris shook his head. "It is possible they recycled him. That, I think, is more likely than them keeping him prisoner." He paused again, then said contemplatively, "But recycling him would have its drawbacks as well…"

"I'm not following," Paige said flatly.

Chris stared at her, then blinked. Paige felt a small smile curve the corners of her lips as she realized that Chris had been momentarily unaware that she was even still there. He had been speaking to himself, not to her, and her sudden presence seemed to startle him.

He got over it very quickly.

"Right," he said. "The key is to think like an Elder." Paige nodded, and he continued, "The Elders don't have control over souls. When a good witch dies, their souls move on to… well, somewhere. When a bad witch or a demon dies, their powers go to the demonic wasteland, but the Elders don't really know what happens to their souls. Do they go to hell, if such a place even exists? Do they die?" He trailed off for a moment, then cleared his throat and said, "If they think that Leo is working with Lucifer, then they will have some concerns about killing him. What if, after they kill him, Lucifer gets his soul? All the knowledge Leo has, all the ways he could help Lucifer and the Underworld fight against the Elders… no, they wouldn't want to risk that."

"You know a lot about this sort of thing," Paige commented, remembering that he'd also heard of the Elders' council of judgment.

Chris wrinkled his nose. "Yes," he said shortly, almost distastefully. "I learned it at school."

Paige raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Piper and Leo sent you to Magic School?" she demanded. That was the only explanation because there was simply no way Chris would have learned any of this in a regular school.

Chris looked away from her, towards Phoebe and Piper. He didn't answer the question, but instead continued in his explanation, "So they aren't going to kill Leo - they're too afraid to do that. Also, killing an Elder is considered a Great Evil, and I can't imagine that it is something they would do unless they had absolutely no other choice."

"But starting a civil war isn't a great evil?" Paige asked sarcastically.

Chris shrugged. "They didn't intentionally do that."

Paige rolled her eyes. That did not seem like a particularly good justification, but she could at least agree that the Elders might view it that way.

"But you also don't think they are keeping him prisoner," Paige pressed.

Chris shook his head. "They know just how dangerous Lucifer is, and they will be concerned that Lucifer could somehow reach him anywhere he is. Keeping him prisoner wouldn't do any good – particularly if other white-lighters and Elders are supporting Leo. Someone will eventually let him out. No… I think that whatever the council did, they must have lied to everyone else about it. They must have told everyone else that he is dead. That way the other supposedly corrupted white-lighters and Elders won't go looking for him."

Paige pursed her lips. "And if they kept him prisoner Up There, they would run too great of a risk that someone would discover his presence. But if they kept him prisoner somewhere else, it would be too easy for Lucifer to reach him." She paused, a thought occurring to her, and then looked at Chris and asked, "Can Lucifer get Up There?"

"No," Chris answered. "He can't." He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned back against the wall, then said, "But he can still corrupt white-lighters or Elders and have them orb Up There to do his bidding. Still, because he can't get Up There himself, it is one of the safest places…"

"But they wouldn't keep Leo Up There."

"No," Chris confirmed. "I don't think they would."

"So then they must have recycled him," Paige concluded. "What other options are left?"

"I agree that they probably recycled him," Chris said, "but they must have done more. Once a soul is recycled, it gets a new body and a new life, but it is still the same soul… No, they must have done something stronger. They must have found a way to permanently block his memories of this life, and to hide him from Lucifer."

"Couldn't Lucifer just unblock the memories, assuming he could find Leo?" Paige asked.

Chris gave a grim smile and replied, "You're giving Lucifer too much power. Remember, he can strike deals and he can manipulate, and he can certainly get demons and the like to do his bidding, but he doesn't have active powers."

"He still manages to do plenty of damage," Paige grumbled under her breath, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Yes," Chris agreed flatly, harshly. Then he sighed. "He might be able to turn the recycled-Leo evil, but I don't know that he has the power to restore Leo's memories. He would have to get a sorceress to do it for him, and the Elders have the ability to block even someone as powerful as Lola… No, I don't think he would be able to return Leo's memories." Then a wry grin graced his lips, and he added, "But Lucifer isn't the only one they are trying to hide Leo from."

Paige stared blankly at Chris for a moment, then a smile lit up her own face as well. "They're trying to hide him from _us_." Chris nodded, and then Paige's own expression fell. "But do we have the power to… unrecycle… him?"

"No," Chris answered with a shake of his head. "But if the opposing army is far more powerful than you are, you don't attack them from the front. You find a way to sneak around them. And that is what we need to do."

Chris lapsed once more into silence, and Paige glanced over at Phoebe and Piper. They were still talking, though their conversation had apparently grown more heated. Paige didn't know what they were saying to each other, and she felt a sudden, unexpected pang of jealousy.

She trampled it quickly, but she knew it would still linger. Even though she had finally moved past her insecurities about her place in the family, even though Prue's shadow no longer hovered over everything she did, she was still sometimes reminded of the fact that she would never have the experience of growing up with her sisters. Piper and Phoebe had a shared childhood, and that gave them a bond that she could never have. Their memories of…

She stopped that thought abruptly and snapped her attention to Chris once more. "Can we send him _our_ memories?"

"Huh?"

"If we can't awaken _his_ memories of his life, can we send him _our_ memories? Memories of when we interacted with him, memories of when he and Piper first met, of when they got married, of when Wyatt was born…"

Chris considered this thoughtfully. "The Elders will have thought of that, and will protect against it. I don't know if we have the power to get past their protections… but a blood spell…"

"A blood spell?"

"A spell cast by someone who shares Leo's blood. A sibling, a parent… a _child_. It would be strong – family ties are strong, but family ties that involve blood are even stronger…" A slow smile spread across his face. "Yes… yes, we might be able to…"

"And it would get past the Elders' protections?" Paige pressed, feeling giddy at the thought.

"Not completely," Chris replied. "But it might still get to Leo somehow. A feeling of déjà vu, a fleeting emotion, a sense of something being missing… maybe even a dream…" He laughed suddenly, and jumped to his feet. "It's worth a shot."

The movement caught Piper and Phoebe's attention, and momentarily halted their conversation. Piper raised her eyebrows questioningly, her gaze moving back and forth between Paige and Chris. But it was Phoebe who asked the question.

"What is it?"

"Chris thinks that Leo isn't dead," Paige said.

Piper's eyes burned brightly for a moment, and something twisted in Paige's stomach. There was hope there, in her sister's eyes – and fear, too. It was a fear Paige knew all too well, one that she had grappled with for the first several months of knowing her sisters. After her parents had died, being alone had been difficult and, well… _lonely_. But she had still been afraid to love her sisters, to let them be her family, because the pain of rejection, of being alone once more, would have been too much for her.

Piper was wondering now if she could risk believing Chris, because if he was wrong and she was forced to lose Leo all over again…

Phoebe apparently had no qualms about that. "What makes you think that?" she asked eagerly. "And how do we find him?"

Chris explained quickly, briskly rushing through everything he had told Paige, and Paige watched Piper's expression the entire time. The eldest Charmed One asked no questions, but Paige could see the way her expression grew contemplative, and knew that Piper was silently assessing every word he said.

When Chris had finished, Piper said, "I don't know, Chris. That is a lot of conjecture…"

"I know," Chris cut in, "but I know the Elders. I know how they think."

Piper's lips curled into a bitter smile. "So do I," she said.

That reply seemed to give Chris pause, then he said quietly, "What part of the conjecture do you disagree with?"

Piper didn't reply for a moment, then she asked, "Are you sure the Elders are really thinking so… _logically_… about this?"

Chris nodded. "The Elders are nothing if not methodical," he said, his tone icy with dislike. "They don't act quickly and they always weigh their options." He hesitated, then added, "They aren't rash. Even when they are completely wrong."

Piper's lips pressed into a thin line. "Gideon was," she said. "At no point did he ever consider the possibility that attempting to kill Wyatt would backfire. That it would cause even more damage, that he could turn Wyatt…"

She trailed off into painful silence, and Paige felt sympathy for her sister. Even after all this time, even with Wyatt _saved_, Piper still had trouble thinking about the Wyatt from Chris' future.

Chris frowned. "True," he admitted slowly, "but Gideon was the exception, not the rule."

"I thought that once," Piper said. "Now I am not so sure." She looked away. "Still, if there is any chance that Leo is alive…" Again, she trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Hope could be painful, after all.

"I'll write the spell," Phoebe said.

"Chris will have to say the spell so that it is his memories that get sent to Leo," Paige said, "and we'll need to say it with him so that it has the Power of Three behind it." She paused thoughtfully. "But maybe we should call on all the witches of the Halliwell line, like we did when vanquishing the Source. That would give us more power."

"We could also combine that with the Blood to Blood spell, or the spell To Call a Lost Witch," Piper said, frowning as she glanced around the room, "but we don't have the ingredients."

"We also don't have the Book," Phoebe pointed out.

Paige sighed. That had been a heated argument. After sprinkling fairy dust and other protections around Wyatt, Phoebe had wanted to collect the Book of Shadows. Paige had been against it, pointing out that any powerful demon in the Underworld could sense its power. They had enough trouble hiding their own magic, and to have to hide the Book's magic as well would be too dangerous.

And besides, the Book was far too big to drag around with them if they were forced to flee, and Paige could easily summon it to them anyway.

Except that they were attempting to limit their use of orbing because demons could sense _that_, too…

Piper had removed herself completely from the argument, and Phoebe had finally given in to Paige's opinion, and so the Book was still the Manor.

"We don't need the Book to write the spells," Piper said, "I remember the ones we need well enough. But the rituals… I don't remember the details of those, _and_ we don't have everything we need."

"I can get everything we need," Chris said.

Phoebe nodded, but Piper looked worried. "It is not safe for you to leave the Underworld again," she said in concern. "The Elders…"

"I can go," Paige said quickly.

Chris looked as though he wanted to protest, but then shrugged and uncharacteristically acquiesced, apparently deciding not to waste time on the argument. "Fine."

Phoebe moved away, already fumbling for paper and pencil in the purse she had brought with her when they fled, and Piper gave Chris one last, lingering look before she joined her middle sister.

Leaving Chris and Paige alone again.

Chris curled his hands into fists and shot an annoyed look Piper's way once the older witch had turned her back.

"She's your mother," Paige said, "she worries about your safety. That can't come as a surprise."

Chris looked at her sharply. "She didn't worry about my safety before," he said simply. "It was easier then."

Paige wasn't sure what to say to that, so she instead asked, "What else happened when you talked to Lola?"

Chris slanted a surprised look at her, and said, "I told you everything."

"No," Paige countered flatly, "you didn't." Chris opened his mouth to argue, but she pressed on, "I might not be an empath, Chris, and you might be truly exceptional at lying, but I can still tell that you are holding something back now."

Chris laughed coldly. "Maybe I have a reason for it." His eyes darkened, and he said, "Your interference is the reason we're at war with the Elders in the first place. If you had just left me with Lucifer…"

"Then _your_ family would still have fallen apart," Paige retorted, bristling. "And _Lucifer_ is the reason we are at war with the Elders."

Chris sighed. "No," he admitted after a moment, "it's more complex than that." He gave her a searching look, and Paige had the feeling that he was trying to determine if he could tell her something. She wasn't sure what he decided, though, because he said only, "Fighting Lucifer is challenging."

"And keeping secrets from each other is not going to make it any easier," Paige answered. Chris tried to turn away from her, but she caught his arm. "I know things are… complicated, but…"

"I really don't think you have any idea how complicated this is for me," Chris answered honestly, cutting over her words.

Paige dropped her arm. "No," she said, "I don't suppose I do. But I'm trying. We're _all_ trying."

Chris gave her that same searching look, then agreed, "Yes, you are trying… now."

There wasn't even the slightest hint of reprimand in his voice. He said the words as though they were merely fact and he had no opinion of them. But Paige knew that wasn't true. She could see the tumultuous emotions flicker in his gaze before he forced the blank expression back to his face.

He was getting better at hiding those emotions again, but whatever Lucifer had done to him remained behind, and he just wasn't good enough to completely conceal his feelings.

Paige chewed her lip for a moment, debating whether or not she should venture onto dangerous ground. Chris had been relatively open with her so far, and she didn't wan to jeopardize that. How would he react if she said something he didn't want to hear?

On the other hand, she had stood by and watched his past arguments with Piper in silence, and that hadn't done anyone any good.

"What did you expect?" she asked finally.

"I… what?"

"When you came to the past. When you made all your plans. What did you expect we would be like?"

Chris narrowed his eyes at her. "We don't have time for this conversation."

"Really?" Paige countered skeptically. "Or do you just not want to have it?"

"I don't see how it will be conducive to our ultimate goal of defeating Lucifer, ending a civil war, and getting Leo back," Chris snapped.

"Because carrying these resentments into battle is a good thing?" Paige asked mildly, knowing he wouldn't be able to counter that. She had seen the way Chris acted every time they were in the middle of a battle, and she had been the Goddess of War long enough to recognize the signs of a soldier in him. Not just a solider – a general.

"I didn't expect anything," Chris said finally. "And…" He looked over at Piper. "She's not my mother. Not yet."

"Well, biologically speaking…"

"Family isn't just biology," Chris interrupted.

Paige raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you really think you need to tell _me_ that?"

Chris blinked at her, then smiled slightly. "Right," he said, recognizing the irony of his comment. "Of course you'd know that." He ran a hand through his hair, momentarily looking away to gather his thoughts. After a moment, he turned his attention back to her and said, "Look, there really isn't anything to discuss. The past is over. Let's just… move forward."

"Yes," Paige replied sarcastically, "because it is _always_ that simple."

"Is there any possible way I can get you to drop this topic?" Chris asked.

Paige opened her mouth to refuse, and then paused, actually thinking over his request. She licked her lips, then said, "Just listen to three things I have to say, and then I'll let it go."

A hint of a smile curved Chris' lips. "Deal," he said, and both he and Paige shivered a little at that word.

And Paige couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever be able to make future deals with anyone without thinking of Lucifer.

"First of all… You showed up out of the blue, split up Piper and Leo, took over Leo's role, and then lied to us and manipulated us even as we defended you to Leo," Paige said. "I know you did it for all the right reasons and I know you just wanted to save Wyatt, but we _didn't_ know that at the time. You were just a stranger interfering in our family. What were we supposed to think?"

Chris' expression hardened, but he said nothing.

Paige pressed on. "And I'd tell you how sorry we are for that, but for some reason you don't like apologies, so I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix this, and I don't know how to get you to see that you can trust us, that you _have_ to trust us, because otherwise Lucifer will use that against us all."

Chris furrowed his brow. "Do you trust me?" he asked sharply.

"Yes," Paige answered.

"Then can't you just trust that if I don't tell you something it is for a good reason?" he demanded.

Paige tilted his head to the side, regarding him, then asked, "Is it actually for a good reason, or is it because you don't trust us?"

Chris didn't answer that question, and instead muttered sourly, "I interfered in your family and we all need to trust each other. That's two… what's the third thing you wanted to say?"

"Family might not require biology, but sometimes that is all it needs," Paige said. She folded her arms over her chest. "My parents went to the adoption agency and looked at several potential daughters. And sons. They picked me. I don't know why, I never asked. I don't know what made them think I was special, but I do know that they _chose_ to love me. And sometimes I had those fears that they would have a biological child and they would love me less, or that they didn't view me as their real daughter or… But I was wrong about that. They chose me, and that doesn't mean that their love was any less worthwhile than the love of a biological mother who doesn't get to choose."

Paige closed her eyes briefly as thoughts of her parents brought up the usual grief and pain. She forced back the tears that she didn't want to fall, and forced herself not to think of the car accident and the flames and…

She opened her eyes and focused again on Chris. "But Piper and Phoebe loved me _because_ I was their sister. Because we shared biology. Piper struggled to connect with me for a long time after they found me. But she called me her sister within two weeks of us meeting. And she risked her life for me, and she did everything she could to help me when I needed help, even if I didn't realize – or didn't want to admit – that I needed it. I've only known Piper and Phoebe for less than three years, and it is only in the last year that I've really felt like part of the family and… and for at least that first year, Piper and Phoebe loved me _because_ I am their sister, and I loved them _because_ they are my sisters. It took them a while to love me for _me_. And you know what? That doesn't make their love any less important to me."

Chris didn't say anything. Paige couldn't read his expression, and she didn't know if her words had gotten through. She also wasn't sure if she had adequately conveyed what she wanted to say.

She shrugged. "But that's just me, that's just the way I see it. Maybe you see things differently. Every family is different, every person is different and… I know that my situation doesn't translate perfectly into yours. I'm just saying… don't think that we don't love you just because it took us a while to figure out that we did. Maybe you think that mothers are supposed to just immediately connect with their children but… Piper even struggled to find the connection with Wyatt when he was an infant. That doesn't mean that she loved him less, it just means that… love is complicated." She shrugged again. "That's all."

* * *

><p>A muted groan of pain slipped out of the young witch's lips as she stumbled to her knees. One hand flew to her stomach, pressing against the damage there. The wound was not so deep, nor the blood loss so great, but it still <em>hurt<em>. And the pain was slowing her down.

She forced herself back to her feet and glanced behind her. The alley was dark, and the faint light of the street lamps made the shadows dance. The fear made her see shapes in the dark, and she had no idea which of them were real and which were merely her imagination.

But she knew that the energy ball to her stomach had _not_ been her imagination.

She pressed forward, determined to keep going. She just needed to get back to her apartment, get to safety…

The figure appeared directly in front of her, materializing out of thin air in the blink of an eye. He was tall and gaunt, with pale skin and sunken eyes and a cruel smile.

"Hello, witch," he said softly.

The witch backed away from him and raised a hand. Her powers weren't working properly, and the rush of wind that she conjured was barely enough to ruffle the warlock's hair.

He laughed.

Anger coursed through her veins, but there was little she could do, and in the next moment he had grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall of the building to her right. His fingers bit into her skin as his hands constricted her airway, and she was soon gasping for breath.

Her vision narrowed to pinpricks as she heard his voice, faint and echoing as though he was speaking from a great distance, "I know many demons who say that killing with their bare hands is beneath them – it is such a human thing to do. But I think they've just never tried it."

And then he screamed.

His body burst into flames, his fingers leaving her throat, and he disappeared. She fell to her hands and knees, gasping in a great lungful of air, then slowly lifted her gaze to look at the person who had saved her.

Talia was standing there, holding an athame in her hands, looking for all the world like she couldn't quite figure out what she had just done.

"I thought white-lighters didn't kill," Sara gasped out.

Talia didn't answer the question, but instead dropped the athame and hurried to kneel at her side. She extended her hands, and a bright golden glow spread out from her fingers. Sara felt a warmth suffuse her stomach.

She batted Talia's hand away. "What are you doing here?" she questioned weakly. She knew it was stupid to refuse to let herself be healed, but her pride and her temper were getting in the way of common sense.

Talia rocked back on her heels. "Sara…" she started.

"You left," Sara snapped. She leaned back against the wall and pulled her knees into her chest, willing her stomach to stop hurting and her hands to stop shaking so much.

"I never wanted…"

"But you did," Sara interrupted. "The Elders told you to give up on me, and you obeyed without question. You left me. You gave me your pretty little speech about how you weren't going to give up on me, but you still walked away." Her voice grew louder as she spat the words out, but the emotion proved to be too much for her, and she started coughing violently.

"I'm here now," Talia countered, "so please let me help you."

After the coughing had subsided, Sara wiped at her mouth and said, "You're here now, true, but you weren't here before. You think this is the first warlock that has attacked me since you left? People have _died_, Talia. My friends have died."

"I'm sorry, I truly am," Talia murmured, "but what was I supposed to do?"

"Fight back!" Sara growled. "That's what you always told me to do."

"It isn't that simple," Talia argued.

Sara rolled her eyes and clambered unsteadily to her feet. Her shirt was stained red with blood, but if she could just get to a hospital, and soon, then she would be fine…

"It wasn't that simple when I first discovered I had magic," Sara said. "It wasn't that simple when demons attacked me. It wasn't that simple when I learned that I was expected to protect innocents. It is _never_ that simple, and I never wanted any of it, but I didn't have a choice. _You_ are the one who told me that. And then you walked away the first chance you got."

"I didn't walk away," Talia protested.

Sara blinked, tears filling her eyes. "You didn't stay and fight, either," she said.

"I am fighting _now_," Talia hissed. "I'm fighting by being here, by helping _you_. And when the Elders find out, they will clip my wings and recycle me, and I will lose everything that I have worked so hard to find. I'll lose _myself_ for helping you, but I'm doing it _anyway_."

Sara opened her mouth, but found she had nothing to say to that. It had never occurred to her that Talia could lose so much – that the Elders would take away her very identity if she disobeyed them.

Talia seemed to take her silence for some sort of acceptance, and she reached forward and carefully rested her hands on Sara's stomach. The golden glow appeared again, and beneath the white-lighter's fingers, Sara's skin began to knit itself back together.

The pain receded, and Sara breathed a sigh of relief. She hesitated a moment, then said quietly, "Thank you."

Talia shrugged. "Just doing my job," she said. She was silent for a moment, then she awkwardly cleared her throat and said, "I _am_ sorry."

And then the arrow slammed into her.

Sara's scream of horror died on her lips as Talia crumbled to the ground, the dark-lighter's arrow protruding out of her back. Her gaze moved past her white-lighter's body, and she saw the dark-lighter standing in front of her, a smirk twisting his features.

She raised a hand, fury flooding her, and prepared to attack him.

And he casually picked up the athame Talia had used to vanquish the warlock, the athame the white-lighter had dropped to the ground as she rushed to heal her charge, and stabbed Sara in the chest with it.

Sara, too, fell to the ground, and the last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her was the dark-lighter standing over Talia's body, absorbing the white-lighter's powers.

* * *

><p>Ava locked the doors to the free clinic she still ran for gypsies without health insurance, and glanced around warily. It was late, and the sun had long since set over the horizon. She had known for a while now that evil lurked in the dark, but tonight seemed even more dangerous than usual.<p>

She remembered the tea leaves.

She had called Piper, wanting to relay what she had seen in her cup, but the Charmed One had not answered her phone. She'd left a message, and could only hope that Piper would hear it, and soon.

And she couldn't help but wonder where the Charmed Ones were.

She walked briskly, shivering slightly in the cool night air. The overwhelming feeling of danger clung to her, and every time she caught the sight of movement out of the corner of her eye, she spun around, prepared for the worst.

She reached her car without incident, and let out a sigh of relief.

She slid into the driver's seat and stared out of the windshield for a long moment, uncertain what she should do next. She could drive home and try to forget the tea leaves and the feeling of unease and the shadows; or she could go to the Charmed Ones' manor in the hopes that they were there, and that they could explain her fears; or perhaps she could visit one of the other gypsy tribes.

There were no Shuvanis left in her own tribe, but her sister tribes still had some high priestesses who were far more adept at reading tea leaves than she was. They had helped her before, and would do so again if she asked.

She slipped her keys into the ignition and pulled out into the street.

The Sinti tribe had gatherings of the holy women on most nights, and would certainly be having them now in the midst of all this unrest. The Shuvani of any of the tribes were always welcome, but Ava had never been to one – though she had embraced her heritage, she had never felt entirely comfortable among those devout elders.

But perhaps tonight was the night to change all that.

It was a twenty minute drive to the meeting place, and Ava's sense of unease did not lesson along the way. She parked her car outside the small building that housed the other gypsies and glanced up at the sky.

She couldn't see any stars.

She walked towards the building. It was a temple of sorts – if such a word could really be used to apply to any aspect of the gypsy belief system. The door was covered with spells in the dialects of the Romani, and the interior was painted with ancient runes and symbols of protection.

Ava had come to the building once or twice, but had never entered it. Still, even from the street she had been able to feel the power of the spells seeping into the air and offering protection to anyone gathered inside.

But tonight the power was conspicuously missing.

The feeling of unease turned to one of abject terror, and the young gypsy sprinted forward, taking the stairs two at a time and shoving the front door open. It slammed back against the wall, the hinges protesting at the force of her blow, but she did not notice. She hurried forward through a small entryway to another door and pushed that one open as well.

And froze.

The room was large and circular, and the ceiling sloped upwards towards the middle, forming a dome. There were no windows, but the middle of the dome was a large skylight, and the pale, sickly light of the moon illuminated the scene below.

The bodies were everywhere. Some were on the ground, sprawled at awkward angles. Others were still in the chairs that formed a circle in the center of the room. The bodies were bruised and bloody, and the air reeked of death and fire.

There were _so many_ of them – fifteen, maybe twenty. They were older women, and Ava only recognized one or two, but she knew that they had all been powerful. Some had fought back; that much was evident from the piles of dust and ash that littered the ground, remnants of the demons that had attacked.

Ava lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle the cry of horror that rose in her throat.

How could this happen? The protections spells were supposed to prevent the building from being located by Evil, just as they were supposed to prevent Evil from gaining entrance. But the spells were gone now – why?

She was so lost in her own horror and grief that she did not see the shadow slipping noiselessly along the entrance way behind her; nor did she see the flash of steel as the athame materialized in the shadow's hand.


	23. The Fall of Good

AN: I know I've been gone forever. I had the rest of the story all planned out and was just struggling to get it onto paper... so a big thank you to Jane Mays for the (gentle) nudge to start writing again.

Chapter Twenty: The Fall of Good

Chris stared at the spell. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of yet another Underworld cavern – this one actually rather homey and surprisingly clean – while Piper and Paige guarded the door and Phoebe set out the ingredients for the ritual. The cavern's two previous occupants lay in piles of ash behind him, and the labyrinth of corridors that had to be navigated to get here made it unlikely the ritual would be interrupted by any unwelcome demons stumbling across them.

At least for now.

"The amount of magic this requires…" Chris said softly.

"Will alert every demon in the vicinity that there are witches using good magic here," Phoebe finished his statement. She gave him a pointed look, and said, "You've mentioned that several times, Chris. As soon as you finish the spell, Paige will orb us away. We'll be fine."

Chris nodded and chewed his lip. This was a good plan – or, at least, as good of a plan as he could come up with at the moment – but even a blood spell augmented by the Power of Three had its limitations. Would it be enough to reach Leo wherever he was?

"Are you ready?" Phoebe asked, interrupting his worried thoughts.

Chris nodded silently.

Piper was staring at him. Her intense gaze was fixed on his features, though her eyes darted once or twice to the silver bowl in front of him before returning to settle intently on his face. What little hope she had left – that tiny glimmer of emotion that she had managed to summon out of the despair she'd carried everywhere since the Elders had summoned Leo – was resting on him.

If he couldn't reach Leo…

How much harder would Piper crash, now that she'd been forced to hope again?

He gritted his teeth. He could not waste effort worrying about that right now. He had to focus on finding Leo, on defeating Lucifer, on saving the world. Nothing else mattered.

He could almost hear Bianca's voice in his head, mocking him, chiding him, telling him to _stop being such a martyr_.

He picked up the three sprigs of rosemary – for remembrance – and tossed them into the bowl. Those were followed by two tablespoons chopped holly – for spirit calling – and a pinch of cypress for longevity. Piper and Paige stepped away from the door long enough to stand next to him, and he lifted the final ingredient – shredded yarrow root for reaching a lost relative – and added it to the bowl.

Phoebe handed him the knife.

He pricked the forefinger of his left hand and watched as a single drop of blood fell on top of the yarrow root. Paige and Phoebe put a hand on his shoulders, and he felt Piper's fingers ghost through his hair, and then he held out the spell for them all to see, and they began to read in unison.

"Prudence, Penelope, Patricia, Melinda, Astrid, Helena, Laura, and Grace…"

A sudden wind whipped through the room, and the temperature dropped by several degrees. Chris lifted his eyes from the paper just long enough to see a shadow move across the doorway, then he pushed on with the rest of the spell.

"Halliwell witches stand strong beside us, send these memories through time and space."

The wind picked up, started howling. The air around them began to shimmer, to ripple, and the three sisters moved away from him and started fighting almost as soon as the demons appeared. Chris was left alone in front of the potion ritual, alone with the spell.

It didn't matter – this was his part, anyway.

"Blood of my blood, I send this to thee," he whispered, a thousand memories rushing through his mind, threatening to overwhelm him, "blood of my blood, take it from me."

A bright white light burst out of his chest and spread through the room, expanding to fill the space. He slammed his eyes shut to protect them from the light, and his emotions rose up through his chest, pressing against his throat, choking him. The memories of Leo – _his_ memories of Leo – played out behind his eyelids before seeping away, as though called elsewhere.

He could only hope they'd reach Leo.

The light had left him momentarily blinded. He blinked once, twice, and his vision swam and then cleared, giving him the unsettling déjà vu of having done this once before, when he returned from hell.

He felt a hand wrap around his arm and jerked to his feet, knocking over the silver bowl and scattering the ritual ingredients. Paige was standing over him, holding him tightly, while at the same time reaching out for Piper. There was blood on Paige's face and Piper was holding one arm awkwardly against her side, but it was Phoebe who seemed to be in the most danger. She was outnumbered five-to-one, and beyond Paige's grasp.

Chris pulled away from Paige and rushed towards Phoebe as one of the demons snarled and slashed at her with jagged claws. He flung out an arm, telekinetically shoving the demon off balance, and Phoebe dodged away from the attack just in time.

She spun around to face Chris, and he saw the blood spreading out across her shirt.

He grabbed her arm frantically, and twisted around to yell at Paige, "Go!"

She didn't need to be told twice. As soon as the word was out of Chris' mouth, she disintegrated into a million tiny blue and white dots, taking Piper with her.

Chris spun around to face Phoebe and the demons closing in on them, and prepared to orb as well.

In the entrance way beyond them the shadow moved again, and as Chris orbed away, he caught a glimpse of a pair of blue eyes staring at him.

* * *

><p>The moment Chris reappeared, Paige rushed to his side and enveloped him and Phoebe in a tight hug. He stiffened, though he felt Phoebe shift next to him as she returned Paige's hug, and waited for the youngest Charmed One to release him.<p>

Beyond Paige, he saw Piper staring at him, a mixture of unreadable emotions in her eyes.

Paige stepped back, and Chris cleared his throat and asked Piper, "How is your arm?"

Piper curled and straightened her fingers experimentally, then she bent her arm at the elbow and winced in pain. "Bruised," she said after a moment, " and a bit swollen, but nothing's broken."

That was good, Chris reflected bitterly, because it wasn't like they had a white-lighter to heal her.

"That spell…" Paige started.

"Forget the spell," Phoebe grumbled, touching her shirt gingerly as she sagged against the nearest wall, "what about the million demons that showed up?"

"Oh my God," Piper breathed, catching sight of the blood on Phoebe's stomach. "Are you alright?" She rushed to her sister's side, skin paling until she was nearly sheet-white.

Phoebe nodded. "The cut isn't that deep," she said, lifting her shirt just enough to show a long, jagged wound. But she had to grit her teeth to force out the words, and it was clear that she was in pain.

"Phoebe, you need…"

"What?" Phoebe interrupted before Piper could finish the statement. "A white-lighter? We don't have one. Medical attention? How am I going to get _that_ if I can't leave the Underworld?"

Hiding in the Underworld, fighting against Lucifer and running from the Elders... not having a white-lighter was a flaw in the plan, of course, but Chris didn't see what other choice they had. Until they reached Leo, they were on their own. And if the Leo they found had been recycled, was now entirely human... well, they'd be without a healer after they found him, too.

"Where did all those demons come from?" Paige asked, wiping a hand over her face and smearing blood from a cut on her cheek across her pale skin.

"The spell called them," Chris said heavily, giving Paige a brief look before turning his attention to Phoebe. "It was more powerful than I had expected, and… and they came faster than I thought they would." He tried to hide his concern as Phoebe slid down the wall into a sitting position, pain etched into the lines in her face. He couldn't offer her any comfort or aid from the pain, and any worry _he_ showed would just increase her own.

Witches were dying everywhere because they didn't have white-lighters to heal them. He knew that – he'd _seen_ it. So why did he expect the four of them to be any different?

"I've never… I can't remember the last time I've seen a spell do that," Piper said.

Chris glanced at her mutely. What could he say to that? He'd seen _Wyatt's_ magic, and so there was very little that could surprise him any more. His brother's nearly unstoppable power had always left a wave of destruction in its wake – or perhaps that was just how Wyatt had used it.

Instead of replying to her comment, he said, "Lucifer was there. I saw him."

Paige had hurried to Phoebe's side, and was kneeling down next to the empath. At Chris' comment, she shot him a look over one shoulder, and he could read the unspoken question in her gaze.

"He would be drawn to the spell, to the amount of power we used," Chris said. "He would have felt it, would have come to investigate… but I don't _think_ he knew what we were doing. I think he was trying to figure it out." He paused, then added a bit wryly, "But for all we know he could be spying on us right now. For all we know, he already knows everything."

Piper's gaze quickly wandered over everything in the vicinity, as though expecting Lucifer to suddenly appear. "That's comforting," she muttered. She turned back to Chris, and he knew what she was going to ask before the words left her mouth.

"Do you think it worked? The spell… did it reach him?"

Chris was honestly a bit surprised that that question hadn't been the first thing out of her mouth the moment they had all reappeared, but the injuries they had suffered, particularly Phoebe's, had momentarily distracted her. Now, though…

The look of desperation seemed so out of place on her features. He'd seen everything else – fear, pain, anger, grief, laughter, exhilaration, contentment. The mother he had known had worn her heart on her sleeve, rarely hiding anything unless absolutely necessary for the success of some vanquish. But this desperation, this expression that told him that she couldn't go on without Leo…

She'd managed without Leo just fine in his past, her future.

Well, perhaps not _just fine_, but she'd managed, and the look in her eyes now was just one more reminder of how different Piper and Mom were. No matter how blurred the line between the two of them got, there still appeared to be some irreconcilable differences.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I – _we_ – cast the spell. That much is obvious. Whether or not it had enough power to reach Leo…" he shrugged. "All we can do is wait."

Piper nodded and turned away from him, shoulders sagging. It wasn't the answer she wanted to hear.

He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her, wanted to yell at her to pull herself together. He wanted her to turn back into either the loving and determined mother he had known or the suspicious and determined Piper she had been at the beginning of the year, because he didn't know how to deal with this version of her.

He slowly clenched and unclenched his hands, willing his anger to recede.

Almost on a whim, he said, "Before I vanquished Lola, she said that I might be able to stop the war by telling the Elders the truth."

"No!"

"Are you crazy? You _know_ what will happen."

Piper and Paige responded immediately. Chris had the feeling that Phoebe would have jumped in as well, had her expression not been scrunched into a look of intense pain. Paige had pulled disinfectant and bandages out of somewhere and was attempting to bandage Phoebe's stomach, and it was clearly hurting the empath.

Chris shrugged. "Your gypsy friend – Ava? She said that I would be the trigger to start the war. And she was right, wasn't she? I'm the one who made the most recent deal with Lucifer, the deal that released Leo and turned the Elders against us."

He was also the one who had made the first deal with Lucifer, had invited the devil into their lives and given him the opportunity to wreak havoc on everything. If he hadn't done that, if he hadn't let his frustration and his despair get the better of him, if he hadn't given in to Lola's repeated offers of an introduction…

Wyatt would not have been saved.

He laughed outright at that thought, a bitter laugh that caused Paige and Piper to stare at him in concern, and even had Phoebe opening her eyes and fixing him with a piercing look. He waved off their worry and looked away, remembering.

Hadn't Bianca once told him that it could come down to this…? _We both know, Chris, that there is a very good chance you would simply let the world burn if it meant saving Wyatt._

"Lucifer started the war," Paige said firmly. "This isn't your fault." She straightened, Phoebe's bandaging finished, and stepped in front of Chris. "You can't blame yourself for what happened."

Chris raised his eyebrows at her. He could easily argue the point, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. None of the sisters would be willing to accept his culpability in the matter.

He ran a hand through his hair and took a shaky breath. "People are dying. If I can stop it…" He trailed off and didn't finish the thought.

The problem, as Lola had very succinctly laid out for him, was that there was no guarantee that he _could_ stop it. Would the Elders believe him? Would they care? Would the other witches and white-lighter and various magical creatures stop their infighting long enough to listen?

"No," Piper said sharply, cutting into his thoughts. "I am not going to let you sacrifice yourself. It's not going to happen, Chris."

He gave her a long, level stare. "I don't need your permission," he said flatly.

Piper stepped back as though he had slapped her. Tears appeared momentarily in her wide eyes, but she blinked once and they were gone.

"Fine," she said with a choked laugh and half-shake of her heard. "Go sacrifice yourself. Give up on us, on your family. Leave."

"Piper…" Phoebe said softly, hauling herself to a standing position. Her gaze flicked back and forth between mother and son, and it was clear that she could read both their emotions.

But Piper ignored her. "God, haven't you learned anything?" she snapped at Chris.

Chris narrowed his eyes. "Haven't you?" he retorted, flushing slightly. It wasn't like he wanted to hurt her, or any of them, but they were rapidly running out of options. And she wasn't his mother – not yet – and even if she had been, it wouldn't have mattered. He was a grown adult and he didn't need her permission anymore.

"Piper, Chris… please…" Phoebe murmured.

"Let's just focus on finding Leo," Paige interjected quickly. "That is our first step. We find Leo, we get him back. Then we can take it from there."

Chris nodded moodily, and Piper huffed. The air was still thick with tension.

"How bad do you think it is getting out there?" Phoebe asked after a moment of silence. She glanced up towards the ceiling, as though she could stare directly through it and see the rest of the world above them.

Chris exhaled slowly. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "Probably pretty bad."

* * *

><p>His home had turned into chaos.<p>

Michael wasn't entirely sure how the dark-lighter in question had obtained the ability to orb – or, rather, he wasn't sure who the dark-lighter had killed in order to obtain that ability. But he had appeared, bringing several demons and warlocks with him, and the usually calm and serene fog-filled atmosphere of Up There had been replaced by screams and crimson blood staining the white marble.

The infighting, the lack of trust, had worked against them. Even as the agents of Evil came rushing towards them, Elders had been yelling at each other, blaming one another for the sudden lapse in security.

Most of the white-lighters had orbed away as soon as they could, taking several of the Elders with them. But Michael wasn't sure where they would go. The leprechauns had protected them when the Titans had attacked, as had fairies. Would either of those groups help them now, given the animosity that currently existed between them?

He closed his eyes and leaned against a marble pillar, trying to ignore the pain.

The attack should have unified them. Whatever suspicions Michael harbored about Leo and the Charmed Ones, he didn't think they'd managed to corrupt any of the other Elders or white-lighters yet, and even if they had…

He just couldn't imagine that a single one of his friends, his family, would have allowed dark-lighters and demons here. No matter how corrupted they became, none of them would have stooped to this. Not after the last civil war...

They had a common enemy now, and the attack should have brought them together, strengthened the ties between them.

But apparently many others disagreed with him on that. They were already dividing themselves into factions, taking sides, blaming each other for the attack and accusing each other of working with demons.

Luke had already betrayed them, rushing to warn of the Charmed Ones. Maybe Michael was the one who was wrong…

"No," he hissed, forcing out the word through clenched teeth. "I'm not wrong. We're still Good, still _family_… Luke would never have done something like this. None of us would have."

"Does it matter if you are right or not?" a voice asked softly.

Michael jerked his head towards that terrifyingly familiar voice, but the movement caused a spasm of pain to run along the length of his spine, leaving him breathless.

He tried not to look at the knife protruding from his stomach.

"It's poisoned, you know," Lucifer said, stepping into Michael's line of sight. He knelt down beside the Elder and ran a finger along the hilt of the blade. "The demons who use this particular type of knife like the poison – it kills _so_ slowly."

Michael tried to lift a hand, tried to summon the power to blast Lucifer across the room, but found he lacked the strength. He was weak – helpless.

Lucifer chuckled.

"Did the others leave you?" he asked, glancing around. Up There was still filled with the sounds of chaotic fighting, of screams and shouts, of war. But Up There was big, and this little part of it seemed to be almost entirely empty. The noise was distant, echoes reverberating off marble structures far beyond Michael's range of vision. The fighting had moved on, and in the confusion, Michael had been overlooked. Forgotten.

And the poison was preventing him from using magic to call out for help.

Michael shifted slightly, slipping on the blood pooling underneath him.

Lucifer twirled his sunglasses in one hand. "Do you remember the last civil war?" he asked casually. Michael didn't reply, and so Lucifer continued, "_I_ remember it quite well. It was a masterpiece… _almost_." Blue eyes fixed on the Elder. "Elder turned against Elder, and the entire magical world as collateral damage. Everything was so splendidly perfect…" blue eyes hardened into ice, "and then you came along."

Michael closed his eyes, wishing he could force Lucifer away. He wasn't sure how the devil had gotten here – probably hitched a ride with the dark-lighter – but if he was going to die, he'd rather do it in peace.

But Lucifer would not leave him alone.

He heard the devil come closer, felt the devil's breath on his face, heard the whispered words.

"And do you remember what I promised you then, Michael?"

Michael opened his eyes. He could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, and the pain in his body made it hard to breath, but he still forced out the words. "You won't win."

Lucifer smiled. "I already have."

"No…" Michael whispered, forcing out the words even though the effort was costing him. "_No_. We are stronger than you."

"Are you?" Lucifer retorted, tapping a finger against the knife hilt in Michael's abdomen, flicking the blade slightly.

Michael screamed.

Or tried to. His throat was dry and his energy was spent, and the sound came out as little more than a choked sob. The pain was nearly unbearable and left him completely breathless, and he gasped for oxygen as his lungs started to burn.

"It doesn't _seem_ like you are stronger than me," Lucifer said with mock contemplation.

Michael pushed Lucifer's arm away, though he knew there was not much else he could do. He couldn't hurt the devil – and even if Lucifer _hadn't_ been invincible, Michael still didn't have the strength to defend himself. But he was not going to just lie there and allow Lucifer to gloat.

"I watched, you know," Lucifer said. "When Darius held a knife to your throat all those millennia ago… I was betting on him." He paused. "I was wrong. I should have been betting on you."

"We both made it out alive," Michael answered.

"Because of you. If Darius had had his way, you would have been dead. All of you."

Michael closed his eyes and tried not to remember.

But his mind would never let him forget.

That civil war had been far worse than anything he had ever experienced before or after. Elder turned against Elder, white-lighters and witches dying every day, anger and mistrust and grief his constant companions. It had raged for a year before an end had finally come, and even after obtaining that hard-won peace, the magical community had been left in shambles.

A faint shadow, an echo, of its formal self.

He had never forgotten those dark days. None of them had – and if the oldest Elders were less than willing to trust Leo now, perhaps the memory of the war was to blame.

"The last time you faced a crisis such as this, Leo helped to hide you from the Titans," Lucifer commented. "I wonder who will help you now."

Michael gritted his teeth. "Did you…" he started to ask the question, but a spasm of pain cut off the rest of the words and he bit back a cry.

He didn't need to finish the question, though. Lucifer already understood.

"Did I send the Titans after you?" Lucifer shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous, Michael. I'm not actually responsible for every bad things that happens in your world," he paused, "though I admit that I would like to be able to take credit for all of it. Unfortunately, I can't lie."

Darkness encroached on Michael's vision. He was rapidly running out of time.

"I'm the beginning of all evil, Michael," Lucifer said. " But I'm not the creator of it. All that anger and self-righteous suspicion in Darius… that isn't me. That is _entirely_ him."

"You played on his fears," Michael whispered tiredly. "All those millennia ago…"

"I did," Lucifer agreed. "But he made his own choices. I played you, too, and you made very different choices. So you can't give me all the blame for the person Darius was then… or for the person he is becoming now." His lips curled into a smile once more, and blue eyes glittered with triumph. "_We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell_."

Michael raised an eyebrow.

"Oscar Wilde," the devil explained, attributing the quote. At Michael's look of surprise, he said, "Being the devil doesn't mean that I can't appreciate good literature." He crouched down next to Michael once more, and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the poisoned blade. "And so we come full circle. You ended my last civil war prematurely, and I promised you that I would destroy you and everything you loved, everything you had worked to rebuild. And now I have."

Without waiting for a response, Lucifer dragged the blade upwards, into Michael's heart. The movement was so swift, so sudden, that the Elder had no time to even cry out before his eyes glazed over and death took him.

Lucifer pulled the blade out of the dead body and stared at it contemplatively. Then he dropped it onto the blood-stained white marble and wiped his hands on his slacks.

"Well… that was fun," he said.

Then he slipped his sunglasses on and disappeared.


	24. Lost

Chapter Twenty-One: Lost

Shoshanna Sherman frowned slightly as she studied the man sitting before her. He was perhaps five-foot-ten and well built, with blonde hair and gentle blue-green eyes. He had an easy smile that caused small lines to appear at the corner of his eyes, but there was a sense of uncertainty beneath his calm appearance.

"So…" Shoshanna glanced down at her notes, "you don't remember anything at all about how you ended up in the shelter?"

The man shook his head and gave a helpless shrug. "I truly don't, Ms. Sherman." He ran a hand through his hair. "I woke up on the sidewalk outside the shelter. Everything before that is just… gone."

Shoshanna nodded absently and flipped through the file, quickly scanning over all the information she had been given. "It says here that one of the employees at the shelter took you to the hospital," she commented.

"Yes," the man replied. "That was Mrs. Mason. The doctor at the hospital – Dr. Reynolds, I believe – said I had general amnesia, but that there didn't appear to be anything physically wrong with me." He gave her the ghost of an amused smile. "I guess that's something, right?"

Shoshanna nodded, and offered a smile of her own. She liked this man. Perhaps it was the fact that he was so obviously trying to make light of a situation that must have been terrifying for him. He seemed extraordinarily optimistic.

And it was a bizarre situation.

She'd seen a lot of strange things as a social worker, but a perfectly healthy man in his mid-thirties with no memory of his past, or his identity, or even his _name_…? Well, that was new.

"And did you try walking through the neighborhood around the shelter to see if anything there looked familiar?" she aksed.

The man was glancing past her towards the blue sky visible through window behind her desk, his expression changing from a soft smile to a look of frustration. "Mrs. Mason took me around. Nothing there looked familiar, and no one recognized me." He flicked his gaze to Shoshanna. "It wasn't helpful, I'm afraid."

She frowned, then said briskly, "You have some options. The first, of course, is to go to the police. They might be inclined to try to figure out what happened to you…" she gave the man a quick onceover, shaking her head slowly, "but I doubt it."

"Why?"

"According to the doctor, you are completely unharmed, and without any evidence that you were hurt, there is no reason to treat this as a crime. Further, your memory might be missing, but _you_ aren't, so they can't treat this as a missing persons case. And you aren't a child, so there's no concern about child endangerment…" She trailed off and studied the man intently. "This is Los Angeles. There is too much crime here for the police to investigate something like this," she finished apologetically.

He nodded, looking glum. "I understand."

"You could try taking out an advertisement in the paper. Someone might recognize you."

"I don't have money for that," the man protested.

"The agency might be able to help with the financial angle," Shoshanna assured him. "It will take some time to go through the proper channels, but I should be able to allocate some funds to a newspaper ad. But," she cautioned quickly, seeing the look of hope in the man's eyes, "it might not work. We don't know if anyone is looking for you, or if they read the _Los Angeles Times_."

The man nodded. "I understand," he repeated.

"In the meantime, I think you should consult a temp agency. You'll need a job to support yourself." She turned to her computer and typed out a few quick commands on the keyboard. "I can give you the names of a couple agencies."

"Thank you."

"And…" she gave him a quick, hesitant smile, "you might want to pick a name for yourself. Something besides John Doe. Does any particular name strike your fancy?"

The man considered the question for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. There was an intensity to his gaze, and for a moment Shoshanna thought he might actually provide a clue to his identity. Would he remember something helpful, some attachment to a certain name?

Then he sighed heavily and shook his head.

"No. Nothing, Ms. Sherman."

Shoshanna turned back to her computer. "Well, you look to be in your thirties. So, let's see…" She typed a quick sentence and stared at the search engine. "According to the Internet, the three most common names for American boys born between 1965 and 1975 are David, Christopher, and Michael. Would you accept any of those?"

The man shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"No preference?"

"None."

Shoshanna smiled. "David it is, then."

The man – David – chewed his lip and glanced past her towards the window again. He was silent for a long moment before asking almost wistfully, "Do you think anyone has noticed that I'm missing. Do you think there's someone out there searching for me?"

* * *

><p>Katherine Grey watched David Smith walk out of her office. The call from Shoshanna had been so curious she'd hardly known what to make of it. And if Shoshanna hadn't been a personal friend, she'd probably have just ignored the whole thing. After all, the temp agency had a reputation to maintain, and providing jobs to a man that didn't even know his own name seemed rather risky.<p>

But Shoshanna _was_ a friend, and Katherine had agreed to meet this David… and he'd surprised her. He'd been well-mannered and polite, and his genuine kindness had clearly shone through his nervousness. He'd taken all the requisite qualification tests and passed the interview…

And so David Smith was off to his first temp job.

* * *

><p>"Oh, for the love of…"<p>

The man – David, he had to start thinking of himself as _David_ – paused in his mopping and glanced towards the partially open door of the women's restroom. The exclamation had been accompanied by the sound of skin hitting ceramic, and he took a hesitant step forward.

"Is everything alright?" he called out diffidently.

There was no response, just the repeated sound of skin on ceramic, and he stepped up to the door fully and rapped his knuckles on it. "Ma'am?"

"Fine. It's fine," came the high-pitched response.

David nodded to himself. "Oh… alright," he murmured, and started backing away.

But he could hear the woman crying.

David looked around, unsure what to do. It was late, after eleven o'clock at night, and the hospital was quieter than it had been during the day. But it was a hospital, so there were still doctors and nurses and orderlies bustling along the hallway, and none of them stopped to investigate.

"Uh… ma'am? Are you sure that everything is alright?" There was no answer, so he pressed on, "Is there anyone else in there? Can I… can I come in?"

"I'm… I'm fine." The response wavered, the statement belied by the barely hidden sobs in the woman's voice.

David chewed his lip. He should just leave, but he couldn't make himself walk away. Whatever this woman said to the contrary, she clearly wasn't fine, and he felt a strangely strong desire to do something.

He made an instantaneous decision. "I'm coming in."

There was no immediate objection from within, so he pushed the door all the way open and stepped into the women's restroom.

The woman in question looked to be young, probably not even twenty. Her wavy hair was dirty blonde with purple streaks and tear-tracks ran down her cheeks, marring her pale skin. She was leaning over the restroom sink, repeatedly slamming her hand onto its porcelain edge.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, green eyes wide and frightened.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, sniffling. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, smudging mascara across her skin.

David offered a weak smile. "You don't seem okay."

"It's nothing for you to worry about," she said, an edge to her tone. She turned away from him, back to staring at her own reflection in the mirror. "I can take care of my own problems."

"What are they?" David asked. She frowned, her eyes flicking sideways to stare at him in the mirror, and he elaborated, "Your problems. What are they?" She glowered at him, and he sighed and said, "Look, you're crying in a hospital bathroom in the middle of the night. Something is obviously wrong, and I don't feel right leaving you alone… Is there anyone I can call for you?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine," she said again. She jerked her head towards the door. "You can go."

David didn't move.

It was strange, he reflected, that he was standing in a woman's restroom trying desperately to help another person – a complete stranger who didn't seem want his help – when he didn't even know who he himself was.

But perhaps that was exactly why he was trying to help her – _because_ he didn't know he was. He had no identity, no memories… no family, no friends, no home. He had nothing at all, and the incredible emptiness that had settled into his chest at that realization was slowly expanding, threatening to consume him.

He was alone.

Was it any wonder he was trying to form a connection with another human being?

"What's your name?" he asked.

"I thought I told you to leave," she snapped back, irate. Anger washed over her face, but then her expression crumpled a moment later, and tears welled in her eyes again.

"Look, ma'am…"

"Ma'am?" she interrupted him, scoffing at the word. "How old do you think I am?" She turned to face him again, leaning back against the sink, and studied him for a long moment. The indecision was obvious in her eyes, but then she said softly, "Margaret. Maggie. Yours?"

"…David." He hesitated, then said gently, "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

She let out a long, slow breath.

"I'm pregnant."

"Ah." David hadn't been expecting that answer, and he wasn't entirely sure how to best respond. Of course, the girl – Maggie – clearly hadn't been expecting to be pregnant if her tears were anything to go by, so they were both treading on strange ground.

Of course, given how young she was, it wasn't really a surprise that she hadn't been planning on this pregnancy.

Maggie gave him a bitter smile. "Not really a problem you can fix, is it?"

"You don't want the baby?" David asked gently.

"I can't have a baby," Maggie answered in desperation. "I don't… how am I supposed to take care of…" She stopped, shook her head angrily. "It's not like Jake is going to lift a finger to help me – he's already made _that_ very clear. This is my problem to deal with and I'm… Oh, _God_, I'm completely alone."

And with that final statement she burst into tears.

David crossed to her side quickly, intent on pulling her into a hug. But then he paused with his arms outstretched, realizing suddenly that she might not appreciate a hug from a stranger. She might find his familiarity offensive, or unwelcome, or frightening.

He dropped his arms to his side, unsure what to do.

Maggie solved the problem by collapsing against him, sobbing into his chest. "What am I going to do?" she asked, her voice muffled and shaking.

"Jake is the father?" David asked, slowly wrapping her in a hug.

"Yeah. But he's not going to help. He… uh, he doesn't really… do responsibility."

"Is there anyone else you can ask for help? Your parents, maybe?"

She shook her head and slowly disentangled herself from his grasp. "I can't. I can't even tell them. They'd be so… so ashamed of me." She gave him a watery smile, bitterness seeping into her voice. "I mean, who gets knocked up at nineteen?"

"Probably a lot of people," David answered truthfully.

Maggie stared at him blankly, blinking. Then she let out a choked chuckle. "Yeah. True."

"Look… I don't know you or your family. Maybe you're right and you can't go to your parents. Maybe you can't ask for their help. But… are you sure that you're right about that? That they wouldn't help you?" He paused, studying her. "You are their daughter."

Maggie averted her gaze. "My family is… complicated."

"Most families are," David pointed out. He touched Maggie on the arm, pulling her gaze back to him. "There are other options, you know."

"You mean abortion?"

"Or adoption." David shrugged. "If you don't think you can raise a child, there _are_ other options. You… uh… you have choices besides trying to break a bathroom sink."

Maggie glanced down at her hand. A bruise was starting to form on her palm from repeatedly hitting the sink.

"Yeah…" she smiled weakly. "I just… can't face my parents. Jake isn't going to help me. I can't… I've _ruined_ my life."

"Not necessarily," David argued. "A child can be… the most amazing thing. There's nothing in the world like it."

Maggie raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you have children?" she asked curiously, tucking a strand of her purple-streaked hair behind one ear.

David blinked, momentarily thrown by the question. _Did_ he have children? If he did, was someone taking care of them? His wife? Did he _have_ a wife? Did he have a family?

Was anyone looking for him?

But Maggie was staring at him with wide, green eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Yes," he said. The white lie slipped easily from his lips, falling into the space between them, because it was what Maggie needed to hear. "A daughter. She's… five. It was hard at first, but… it gets better. It becomes… _wonderful_."

"Doesn't feel wonderful," Maggie sniffed. "Feels pretty lonely, actually." She wiped the back of her hands over her eyes, brushing away more tears. "No Jake. No parents."

"But you can't give up," David replied.

"On my parents?"

"On _yourself_." David replied. "You can do this."

* * *

><p>The woman's body was sprawled on the park bench, one arm hanging down, her fingers brushing against grass. Her eyes were closed, as though she was sleeping, but the blood stain spreading across her shirt and the knife sticking out of her chest indicated otherwise.<p>

The hilt of the knife was ornate, almost ceremonial in appearance.

Inspector Carlos Sanchez stared at the body for a long moment, then turned and surveyed the rest of the park, a frown on his features. "Fifth death in the last two days that matches this," he said with a vague wave to the knife.

His partner, kneeling next to the body and studying it intently, nodded. "We're still running down leads on the knives. But we can't seem to find the manufacturer anywhere." He slanted a look up at Sanchez. "It's strange. A ritualistic knife like that. And five of them? They should show up _somewhere_."

"I know, Carter," Sanchez said heavily, grimacing. "Five dead bodies. We've got ourselves a serial killer. And one that moves _quickly_."

"The media is going to have a field day with this one," Carter muttered sourly. "A serial killer and no leads. I'm surprised the vultures haven't already started circling the police precinct."

Sanchez bit his lip and said nothing. The threat of media attention was concerning, of course, but more so was the unprecedented increase in crime. And not just these stabbings. It was mostly missing persons, but given how _many_ people had disappeared, there was no possible way any of this would have a happy ending.

Los Angeles, like any big city, had its fair share of crime, its thriving underbelly, its side no one really wanted to talk about. But this wasn't gang violence, or street crime, or anything else that could be swept underneath the rug, hidden and ignored. This was well-to-do women disappearing from their homes, people being killed with impunity.

Sooner or later, someone was going to notice. It was only a matter of time.

"I want to know if our serial killer has been anywhere else," he said finally.

"You mean outside of L.A.?" Carter asked, surprised. "You think he's a transplant?" He considered that possibility for a moment, then said, "It would make sense. The way he kills – quickly, efficiently, and without any witnesses – he's got experience." He stood up, brushing his hands against his pants as he did so. "I'll make some calls."

"Do it swiftly," Sanchez instructed. "If he has been other places, I want to get a handle on it as soon as possible." He looked down at the body one last time. "If this keeps up, you know they're going to send in the FBI. And I don't like playing nicely with the feds."

* * *

><p>Daryl stared at the picture of the athame on his computer screen, not quite willing to believe what he was being told. "Five of them, all identical?" he repeated.<p>

"Yes," Carter said, his voice echoing slightly along the phone line. "Five victims, five identical knives. But the victims themselves don't seem to have anything in common… except that they're all female. And now dead." A slight pause, then he asked, "You got anything like this in San Francisco?"

Daryl hesitated for a fraction of second before answering, "I'm not sure. I'll dig around, see what I can find out."

"Thanks, Morris."

"Any time, Carter."

As he hung up the phone on the detective, he stared hard at the photograph that had been emailed to him. Damien Carter was an old friend who'd worked at the San Francisco police department for years before moving to Los Angeles, and Daryl didn't like lying to him.

But he'd spent enough time around the Halliwells to recognize an athame when he saw one. And while it was definitely possible this was simply the work of a non-magical madman with a penchant for fancy knives…

There _had_ been an increase in missing persons in San Francisco, mostly women who had seemingly disappeared from their homes, leaving nothing but scorch marks behind. Scorch marks that had everyone in the department – everyone except Daryl – baffled.

He knew what they were. And he knew that an increase in demonic activity – and increase sharp enough to catch the attention of pretty much everyone on the force – could not possibly be a good thing.

And if this athame was any indication, the increase in activity was _not_ unique to San Francisco.

Whatever was going on, it had scared Piper enough for her to leave Wyatt with them and coat their entire house in fairy dust. He had never known the sisters to run from a fight, and this had them fleeing in terror.

What did it all mean?

And more importantly, what could he do to protect his fellow officers? He couldn't tell them the truth, that this was most likely the work of a demonic killer. No one would believe him. But what if their investigations brought them too close to the truth? Or too close to the killer? What would happen then?

Well… he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that.

And he couldn't just do nothing while his friends and colleagues walked into that kind of danger.

He closed the picture of the athame and shut down his email. Rubbing his eyes and leaning back in his seat, he wondered where the Halliwells were and what they were doing.

"What have you gotten yourselves into?" he murmured.

* * *

><p>David stared at the front page of the <em>Los Angeles Times<em>, dismayed. He only had a few days worth of memories at this point, but all of them were in this city. This was his home, as far as he knew, and it was the only place that he felt he even remotely belonged.

And now even that little bit of comfort was being threatened.

_Serial killer stalks city; seven dead in three days._

He closed his eyes.

How did someone become a serial killer? It was a strange thought. What could make someone become so… so… _evil_? What could possibly drive a person so far past the point of redemption?

What could _ever_ drive a person to kill? What dark, dangerous impulses would have to be indulged for someone to end up with blood on their hands?

The thought drifted through his mind and was gone.

He opened his eyes and stared back at the paper. The families of the victims must be in so much pain, he reasoned, having lost a loved one and having no understanding of _why_. He wished he could offer them something – consolation or closure. But he had neither to give.

He didn't even know who he _was_. How could he help anyone else?

The motel he was currently calling home was a cheap, by-the-hour kind of place, and he had a fairly good idea of what types of people usually stayed here. But he was only here until he regained his memory, or someone came to find him, or he earned enough money at his temp job to rent an apartment.

If he had to wait for the latter, it would probably take a while.

He glanced around his small room. It wasn't exactly what he would consider home. The wallpaper was peeling in places and blankets on the bed were worn, though at least the sheets were clean. But it was all he had, the only place he could go to at the end of the day.

He wandered over to the window. The windowpane was grimy, and the housecleaning staff had actually refused to clean it, and he'd meant to buy glass cleaner but hadn't gotten around to it. It wasn't like the view would be much improved by clear glass; the window looked out over a parking lot. The cement in the lot was cracked in places, with small weeds and tufts of grass sprouting through the cracks. There were only ever a few cars parked in the lot at a time, and they usually rotated in and out as the residents of the motel came and went at all hours.

It was currently dusk, and the parking lot was abandoned. As David watched, however, a young woman came running out of an alley across the street and darted towards the parking lot. She was too far away for him to see clearly, but she was quite obviously running in desperation, as though trying to escape something.

She paused once or twice to glance over her shoulder, as though concerned she was being followed. But she appeared to be completely alone, and by the time she reached the parking lot, she had slowed slightly. She finally came to a stop at the edge of a the fence that ran around the motel. She looked around once more, and wrapped her arms around her chest.

She was shaking.

Without thinking, David hurried from his room, stepping out onto the walkway that ran parallel to all the rooms. He reached the steps leading down to the parking lot just in time to see the man come out of nowhere.

Literally.

One moment the woman was standing completely alone at the entrance to the parking lot, fifty feet from David's vantage point, and a moment later a man was standing directly in front of her, something sharp and shiny in his hand.

It happened too fast for David to follow. The sharp object flashed under the glow of a streetlamp, light reflecting off its blade, as the man in question drove it forward into the woman's chest. She opened her mouth to scream, but the scream turned into a choked cry that was barely loud enough to be heard. A moment later she pitched forward, falling to the ground.

The man who had killed her glanced around once, quickly, and his eyes landed on David. His face was half-hidden by shadows, making it impossible to see any of his features clearly. But there was something about his eyes. They had some strangely inhuman sheen to them, and despite the distance that separated them, despite the dim light, David felt a shiver of fear run down his spine.

Then the man disappeared.

David gaped.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone. Completely. As though he had simply vanished into thin air.

"What… how… but that's not… huh?" David stammered, frozen in his spot on the stairs.

It took his mind a moment to start working again, to push away the complete bewilderment at what he had witnessed and the lingering sense that something evil had been in that parking lot, and then he forced himself forward, stumbling down the stairs and sprinting across the lot. He reached the woman a moment later, and dropped to his knees at her side.

She looked to be a few years younger than him, and she had long dark brown hair that was splayed out on the cement underneath her. Her pale skin showed bruises on her throat and face, and her brown eyes were wide open, staring unseeingly up at the sky. Her clothes looked expensively tailored, she wore pearl studs in her ears, and she had a engagement ring on her left hand.

And she was dead.

David checked for a pulse or breathing, and found neither. Blood was already spreading out across her silk blouse and pooling underneath her.

"Oh, _God_…" He rocked back on his heels.

What had _happened_?

And more to the point, what should he do? He needed to call the police, probably, but what would he tell them if they started asking questions? No one would believe that the assailant had disappeared like that. David didn't even really believe it, and he'd seen it with _his own eyes_.

That man… had it even been a man?

Had it even been _human_?

None of this made sense.

And the woman was still very dead. Figuring out who – or what – had killed her would not change that. She was gone forever. And if the engagement ring was any indication, she had a family that would miss her, that would grieve for her loss.

David stood slowly and looked around once, half-expecting the strange man to reappear. But he didn't, and David was alone at the edge of the parking lot. Alone except for the dead body at his feet.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to the woman.

If he had only gotten there faster…

He ran a hand through his hair. Would it have made a difference? Could he have protected her?

Probably not, he reflected bitterly, but that admission did nothing to stem the guilt he felt, the overwhelming and almost inexplicably sense of personal failure. As though he himself had let her down.

He turned back to the motel. He needed to call the police.

* * *

><p>"Let me get this straight," Sanchez said quietly, frowning at the man on the other side of the one-way mirror. "A man with <em>amnesia<em> stumbles across our serial killer's latest victim. And we _don't_ suspect him?"

Carter shrugged. "I checked out his story. The people at the shelter, the doctor at the hospital, the social worker, and the temp agency all confirm what he said. He has amnesia."

"How long has he had it? Three days?" Sanchez shook his head. "That's the exact same amount of time since these deaths started. And now we're up to eight."

"I know. It's weird," Carter agreed. He, too, looked at the man on the other side of the one-way glass. David Smith, or whatever his real name, sat quietly at the table in the brightly lit room. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was drumming the fingers of one hand on the opposite elbow. He looked upset, agitated… pretty much exactly how a normal person would look if they had stumbled across the body of a brutally murdered woman.

"According to his statement, he didn't see anything helpful. He was at his motel, reading the newspaper, he went to the window and saw the body and ran outside to investigate."

Sanchez glanced at Carter. "And you believe him?"

Carter considered the question, then said slowly, "I think so. The M.E. said that time of death couldn't have been more than an hour before we got there. Probably even less than that. If he was the serial killer, why would he bring the cops to the scene of the crime so quickly?"

"To gloat? That's not uncommon for serial killers."

"He hasn't done that with any of the other victims," Carter countered. "Why change his M.O.?"

Sanchez frowned and said nothing, thinking over that argument. Finally, he nodded and changed the subject slightly, "Did you get anything from the other departments?"

"Nothing matching our guy," Carter replied. "But every precinct I called reported an increase in violent crime in their area. Some murders, a lot of missing persons. And most of the victims are female."

"But nothing with a knife like the one our guy is using?"

"Not recently. I have a few guys looking into earlier cases, so we might still get lucky. But there hasn't been anything in the past several months, so if he's done this sort of thing before, it was either a long time ago, or not in California."

Sanchez grimaced. "I guess we'd better widen our search."

That, of course, meant talking to the feds, and as soon as _they_ got their hands on this case, Sanchez and Carter would most likely be sidelined. It wasn't an appealing thought for either of them, but they had eight dead women and no leads.

They needed a lucky break, and they needed it _soon_.

The increase in violent crime, though… Sanchez rubbed a hand over his face as he thought about that. Without the use of the same type of knife or another connection between victims, an increase in crime was simply an increase in crime. But for such a widespread increase to occur so suddenly, so rapidly, was unusual.

Was it just a coincidence, or was there something else at work?

He slanted a look at Carter, but Carter was staring at David Smith.

"He's upset," Carter said softly. "Not defiant, not angry. Genuinely upset about this woman's death." He pursed his lips, then said, "You were listening when I questioned him. We put him in an interrogation room, practically accused him of making up this bizarre story about amnesia, and he just kept saying he wished he'd seen her earlier, wished he'd been able to save her." He gave another shrug. "Either he's a really good actor, or he's on the up-and-up."

"And you think it is the latter?"

Carter nodded. "I do. Gut instinct, I guess. But I really think he's telling the truth."

Sanchez exhaled slowly. "Alright. We don't have any reason to hold him, anyway. So we'll let him go. But tell him not to leave the city."

"Where's he going to go?" Carter asked with a sardonic smile. "He doesn't even know who he is."

"So he says," Sanchez replied, heading out of the room. "I'm not taking any chances." He paused at the door and turned back, a thoughtful expression on his features. "See if you can get him to agree to give us his fingerprints."

Carter raised an eyebrow. "I thought the knife was like all the others. Isn't the hilt too ornate to lift any useful fingerprints? What would we compare his prints to?"

"Run him through the system. Let's see if he has a record of any kind. Besides…" He paused for a moment, his eyes flicking back to the one-way mirror, "if he really doesn't remember who he is, this might help us identify him. Surely he'll want _that_."

Carter nodded. "Good point. Alright, I'll see if I can't figure out who our David Smith really is."

* * *

><p>"He's… what?"<p>

"Leo Wyatt, born May 6, 1924 in San Francisco, to a Christopher and Anne Wyatt." Carter dropped the file on Sanchez's desk.

"So he's eighty years old?" Sanchez demanded. His lips twisted in an ironic smirk. "He certainly looks good for his age."

"Oh, it gets better," Carter replied. "Leo Wyatt served as a medic in World War II. He was killed on November 14, 1942 at the battle of Guadalcanal."

Sanchez blinked. "Oh. Well. Then he looks _great_ for a dead guy." He opened the file and glanced down at the picture of Leo Wyatt. It was absolutely identical to David Smith. "This doesn't make _any_ sense."

"He could be a relation of Leo Wyatt's," Carter suggested. "Grandson, maybe? The age would be about right for that."

"But he shouldn't have identical fingerprints," Sanchez protested. "_Nobody_ has identical fingerprints. That's the whole reason we use them in investigations."

"What about a fake identity? Doesn't witness protection do that for people?"

Sanchez shook his head. "Yeah, but if they were building someone a fake identity, don't you think they would have gone with something more convincing than an eighty-year-old dead guy?" He looked up at Carter. "There has to be something wrong with our fingerprinting system. That's the only explanation that makes sense."

"You'd better hope there isn't," Carter retorted heavily. "If we admit that our fingerprinting might be flawed, it could overturn practically every conviction we've ever gotten using fingerprinting evidence."

"Unless we had a confession. Or DNA evidence."

"So we'd keep the criminals who confessed on their own or who opted for a plea bargain, but we'd risk losing every one who tried to escape justice by denying their crimes. And yeah, we'd keep anyone we have DNA evidence on, but how many people is that, really? There's plenty that we were able to place at the crime scene primarily on fingerprinting. And _those_… Give them a halfway decent public defender or private defense lawyer, and every murderer, every rapist… they'd walk."

"Don't you think you're overreacting a little?" Sanchez asked skeptically.

"Am I?" Carter countered. "We've got a serial killer on the loose. We can't afford to add more problems to that."

There was a moment of silence, then…

"True," Sanchez agreed grimly.

"So what do we do?" Carter asked.

Sanchez leaned back in his seat and contemplated the file. "Well, David Smith obvious isn't Leo Wyatt. And this doesn't really add anything to our case. So I say we do nothing."

Carter frowned. "You don't want to tell Mr. Smith what we found?"

"What did we find? That he's a dead guy?" Sanchez tapped his finger on the file. "This is wrong. I don't know how or why, but it is. He _can't_ be Leo Wyatt. It doesn't do _him_ any good to tell him this, and it could do _us_ a lot of harm. And we've got a killer to catch."

Carter frowned. He didn't like the idea of simply ignoring this, but he couldn't argue with anything Sanchez had said. And he'd been the one to bring up the issue of overturned convictions in the first place.

"Alright. I'll tell Mr. Smith that we couldn't figure out who he was, and I'll send him home."

Sanchez nodded, and tossed the file into the recycling.


	25. Interlude: Angelic Grace

Interlude: Angelic Grace

"_Leo, what are you doing?"_

"_They're calling, Piper. I can't just…"_

"_It's Chris' birthday!"_

"…_I know."_

* * *

><p>The man – David – woke abruptly, the remnants of a dream vanishing. Sunlight poured in through the grimy window of the motel room, illuminating the dust motes floating in midair. The smell of disinfectant seeped in through the walls, and the sound of voices speaking in soft, rapid Spanish indicated the presence of the housekeeping service outside the door.<p>

David groaned and rolled over, trying to remember the dream. It clung to the edges of his consciousness, too vague to grasp.

He yawned.

In the dream, he had been upset. Scared, even. In the dream, he'd been listening to two people argue, and he'd felt an overwhelming sadness and a painful resignation at their words. Words he couldn't remember now that he was awake. But in the dream, those words had been important. Vital.

He crawled out of bed, and the dream faded.

* * *

><p>"<em>Chris, buddy. You know I'd be here if I could, right."<em>

"_Yeah. Whatever."_

"_Chris…"_

"_Don't bother. I don't want another apology."_

* * *

><p>The words haunted him. He heard the argument, heard the shouts and fears and tears. They echoed in an empty hallway in the hospital. They followed him on the street. They threw themselves at him as he sat down to lunch, bounced around inside his head as he ate dinner. They taunted him constantly.<p>

And yet every time he reached for them, every time he tried to hold onto them, to remember them, to think about them, they slipped away.

And he was left with an emptiness in his chest that kept growing minute by minute, reminding him that there was something he had lost, something he might be able to find again, if only he could remember it.

* * *

><p><em>All he could feel was pain. It started in his chest and spread outwards, like the red dampness on his shirt. He heard shouting above him, and felt arms wrapped around him tightly, too tightly, but it all paled in comparison to this immeasurable pain. <em>

"_Chris, sweetie…"_

_The whispered words just barely penetrated the thick cloud of pain surrounding his thoughts. There was a hand on his forehead and another on his knee, but his chest hurt so badly and just he couldn't…_

"_It's okay, buddy," a deeper voice said, and something gold filled his vision, glowing and warm. "I've got you," the deep voice continued. "You're going to be fine. I'm right here. I've got you."_

_The gold soaked into his chest and then spread through his body until it reached the tips of his fingers and the bottoms of his toes. He could feel it warming him, and chasing the pain away. It was bright – almost too bright – and it was growing hotter. But it made him feel safe._

_After the gold ebbed away, he found himself held tightly in his mother's arms. She was clutching him, her fingers running over his chest frantically, tears pooled in her brown eyes._

"_Mommy?"_

"_You're okay, sweetie," she murmured, leaning forward and pressing a kiss onto his forehead. Her long hair fell over his face, tickling his skin. "You're okay."_

_He squirmed out of her grip. He felt fine now, he didn't understand what all the fuss was about. There was still something red and wet on his shirt, but the pain was gone. So why was his mother still looking at him like that?_

_His father ruffled his hair. "Come on, Chris," he said, rising to his feet and extending his hand. "Let's go get you a different shirt." His father glanced at his mother. "He's fine, Piper," he said softly. "See. He's fine."_

_His mother blinked back tears and didn't reply._

_Later, much later, Chris couldn't sleep. He crept out of bed, careful not to wake Wyatt, and tiptoed to the door of the bedroom. It was dark, but the house was old, and it made all the old-house sounds. The creaking and the groans, and the other noises Chris would listen to whenever he lay awake in bed._

_But there were other sounds, too. His mother and father were talking, and their voices drifted up from the floor below._

_He knew he'd be in trouble if he was caught listening to an adult conversation. Even more trouble than if he was just caught out of bed, playing with his toys or something._

_But even at five years of age, he wasn't particularly good at following the rules._

_He walked silently along the hallway to the staircase, and sat down in the shadows, listening._

"… _a new Source." That was his father's deep, calm voice._

"_Great. Just great," his mother replied, tense and – frightened? Chris shivered. He'd never heard his mother frightened. "So what does this mean? The Underworld has declared whoever kills our son can become the next Source?"_

"_Well, in the past, killing the Charmed Ones was viewed as the way to prove supremacy. The Elders think that – since that plan hadn't been very successful in the past – the Underworld has moved on to what they believe are easier targets."_

"_It was successful enough when they murdered Prue!" _

_Chris blinked at that comment, at the new voice that had spoken. When had his Aunt Phoebe arrived?_

"_Except it didn't destroy the Charmed Ones, and you did managed to vanquish both Shax and the old Source."_

"_So we're supposed to consider Prue's death a success for us?"_

"_Piper, you know that's not what I meant."_

_A sigh. "I know, Leo. I'm sorry." A pause. "I just… if you hadn't shown up right when you did, Chris could have died."_

"_But Leo did show up, sweetie. You called for him, and he came, and he healed Chris."_

_That was his Aunt Paige. Whatever they were talking about, he knew it must be really serious if both his aunts were there._

"_Paige is right. Chris is fine – for now. But the demons will keep coming. And, Phoebe…"_

"_My unborn child will be in danger, too? I know. Believe me, I know." Chair legs scraped on the floor as someone settled into a seat. "So what do we do?"_

"_We can't just sit here and wait for every demon, warlock, and dark-lighter to attack. We need to take the fight to them. We need to make them understand that this plan won't work for them, either."_

"_The Elders actually think you should hold back for now."_

"_What?" All three voices came together then. Chris could tell his mother and aunts were not happy with what his father had said, though he didn't understand why. He didn't know much about the Elders, but he knew that his father worked for them, and that they were Good. So why would his mother be so upset by their advice?_

"_If the Underworld is organizing, it would be dangerous to attack without knowing more."_

"_It's pretty dangerous doing nothing, too."_

_A sigh. "I know. I don't like doing nothing, either, Piper. A demon very nearly killed my son. But the Elders are not wrong that rushing into this could be problematic. The Underworld has gotten smarter in the past several years. They aren't as… piecemeal… as they used to be, and we can't treat them like they are."_

"_Well, look at you, Leo. Turning into quite the strategist."_

"_Um… thanks, Paige?"_

"_I agree with Piper. We can't wait forever. In case you haven't noticed, I'm very pregnant, which makes any kind of physical combat hard. And it's only going to get harder over the next two months."_

"_Yeah, and that is a reason why we can't take you into a fight with the Underworld right now, Phoebe. You don't have a force-field to protect you."_

"_Well, I can't hide at Magic School forever. Not if demons are targeting my nephews."_

"…_maybe we should send Chris and Wyatt to Magic School for now?"_

_There was a silence, and Chris bit his lip anxiously. He didn't like his mother's suggestion. He didn't want to go to Magic School. Kids who went to Magic School lived in the dormitories there, and didn't get to see their nonmagical friends. He liked his friends. He didn't want to leave them._

_Although, Wyatt would be there. Maybe Magic School wouldn't be so bad if Wyatt was there._

"_Let's not do anything hasty yet. We can put up more wards around Chris and Wyatt's bedroom. Leo can check in with the Elders again, and Piper and I can track down this demon that attacked Chris and vanquish it. And Phoebe can find out if Chris and Wyatt can stay at Magic School temporarily. Just to make sure we have every option covered. And then we can figure out what to do."_

"_Yeah… okay."_

"_Fine."_

"_Mm… I guess that works. Paige, can you drop me off at Magic School on your way home?"_

"_Of course. And Piper, we're just a call away if you need us."_

"_I know. Thank you."_

_There was a silence, and then the sound of shuffling footsteps, and Chris drew back quickly as his mother and father stepped out of the dining area and into view. His mother was walking ahead, moving towards the stairs, but his father caught her shoulder and pulled her back towards him. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly, and she pressed her face into his chest._

"_I'll come when you call, Piper. For you, for Wyatt, for Chris. I'll always come when you call," he promised._

"_I know," she replied, her voice muffled. "But seeing Chris like that… I was scared Leo. I was terrified. I haven't been that scared since Wyatt…" She trailed off.  
><em>

_Chris frowned. Since Wyatt what? What had happened to Wyatt that could scare their mother so much? Wyatt was awesome and he knew so much stuff and he was cool… and…_

_Wyatt was his big brother. Wyatt was practically invincible, like a superhero. What could have ever happened to him?_

"_We got Wyatt back," Chris' father said. "And we will protect both him and Chris. I promise you, Piper; nothing will happen to either of them. We won't let it."_

* * *

><p>David stared at the computer screen. The dreams had all but completely faded, but a few words had remained. Typing <em>Chris<em> into Google hadn't given him any leads – not that he really thought it would – and searching with the word _demon_ had brought up several Wiccan and Christian sites, none of which looked even remotely familiar. A quick Google search of _Elders_ had given him several dictionary definitions and a couple of nonprofit organizations.

Nothing useful.

He chewed his lip and glanced around the library. He could ask a librarian for help, but he wasn't sure how he would format that question.

_Hi, I'm looking for a connection between the name Chris and the words demon and Elders._

It sounded stupid in his head; he doubted it would sound any better if he said it aloud.

He tapped his fingers on the edge of the keyboard, thinking. The dreams might be nothing at all. Perhaps he was following a false trail. Perhaps it was going to take him down the rabbit hole instead of back to his previous life.

Still…

It was the only clue he had. He couldn't just give up.

He pulled up a search engine for newspaper articles and typed in the word Chris. He tried narrowing down the time range, but the search term still yielded hundreds of results.

He added the words demon and Elders.

That brought back zero results.

He glanced at the clock on the computer screen. It was almost time for him to be at work, and so, with a discouraged sigh, he shut down the web browser and logged off the computer.

* * *

><p>"<em>Chris, wait. Chris!"<em>

_Twelve-year-old Chris spun around to glare at his father. "For what?" he snapped. "Another apology? A letter? Don't bother, Dad. I know what it's going to say."_

_Leo was staring at him with such a contrite look in his eyes, it made Chris want to scream. Did he really think he could show up now and make it all better? He was too late – he was always too late._

"_Chris, I couldn't. The Elders…"_

"_The Elders wouldn't let you," Chris interrupted. "I know, Dad. I've heard this speech before."_

"_I would have been here if I could," Leo said softly. "Please, Chris. You have to believe me."_

_Chris scoffed. He didn't have to do anything, and he certainly didn't have to believe a single word that came out of his father's mouth. He'd heard far too many broken promises and belated apologies to care._

"_Why don't you go hang out with Wyatt? He's generally the one you come to see," Chris grumbled._

"_That isn't true," Leo protested. "I visit both of you equally."_

"_You mean you miss our birthdays equally," Chris retorted. "You skip out on my soccer games and Wyatt's basketball games equally. You forget our school plays and parent-teacher meetings and family dinners equally." He turned his back on his father. "But Wyatt, at least, you help train in his powers. I guess mine just aren't that important."_

_Leo caught his arm. "Chris, you are every bit as important to me as Wyatt is."_

_Chris wheeled around. "Then why do you visit Wyatt all the time? Why do you always talk magical theory with him? Why do you always help him master whatever new power-of-the-month he develops? Why are you always here for him?"_

_He wanted to sound angry. He wanted to sound accusing. He wanted to sound judgmental._

_He hated that he just sounded desperate._

_The door to the kitchen opened at that moment, and Piper stepped into the room. Chris turned to face her just as she caught sight of Leo and raised her eyebrows in surprise. Aware of her son's presence, she forced a smile to her lips, but her eyes were hard and flat._

"_Leo," she greeted him, her tone a touch cold. "You made it."_

_Leo nodded glumly. "Sorry I'm late," he said._

_Piper's smile turned brittle. "Work with the other Elders, I assume?" She turned her attention to Chris, and her smile became warm. "Chris, why don't you go get Wyatt? You two and your father can have some dessert."_

"_It's the middle of the day," Chris said sourly. "You never let us have dessert in the middle of the day." It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his mother's attempts to cheer him up, but did she really think she could make up for Leo's faults with cake?_

_Piper pursed her lips. "Do you not want the cake, then? You don't want chocolate-mint decadence with a chocolate cream ganache filling?"_

_Chris grinned. Okay, maybe his mother could fix some things with cake._

_He hurried from the kitchen, intent on calling for Wyatt, but as the door closed behind him, he heard Piper say, "You can't keep doing this, Leo. You can't show up three days late and expect everything to be alright."_

_Chris paused to listen to his father's reply._

"_Would you rather I not come at all?"_

"_I'd rather you actually put in the effort to be here on time."_

"_I am trying, Piper. You know that. It isn't about a lack of effort or desire. I want to be here. I just… can't."_

"_And you know what, Leo? That's not good enough. That stopped being good enough the first time you missed Chris' birthday six years ago."_

* * *

><p>David woke up desperately wanting cake.<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>Don't be stupid, Dad. Wyatt isn't turning evil."<em>

_Leo ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't say Wyatt was turning evil, Chris," he said softly. "I didn't even – I'm not suggesting that. I'm not even thinking that. I'm not." He closed his eyes, and Chris could see the pain etched into every line of his father's face._

_He found he didn't care._

_He didn't care that his father had loved his mother. He didn't care that his father was grieving. What did any of it matter? All this empathy his father professed – all this sorrow, all this love – it was too late._

_He was always too late._

"_I'm worried about Wyatt. Ever since... ever since your mother died…"_

"_Was killed, you mean," Chris interjected, green eyes cold as ice. "Murdered. Ever since the demons murdered her." He took a step backwards, putting more distance in between himself and his father. He almost turned to go, to storm out of the sunroom. He had nothing to say to Leo, and Leo had nothing to say that Chris would care to hear._

_But Leo said, "Wyatt has been reckless. Rash. Wild. He hasn't… he's not himself."_

"_Of course he's not himself," Chris snarled. "Our mother was murdered by demons three weeks ago! What were you expecting – that we'd sit around and meditate and everything would be alright?"_

_Leo had gone extraordinary pale the first time Chris used the word murdered, and now he staggered backwards and placed a hand on the wicker loveseat at his side to keep himself steady._

_In a tone of forced calm, he said, "I'm worried that if Wyatt doesn't stop what he is doing, if he doesn't turn aside from this path, we will lose him, too."_

"_We?" Chris echoed. "Since when are you part of this family?"_

"_Chris…"_

"_Stop it!" Chris felt the burn of tears in his eyes and quickly looked away. He would not cry in front of his father._

_Leo tried a different tactic, "I've spoken to the other Elders, and they agree with me."_

"_What a shock," Chris deadpanned._

"_Chris – listen. No one wants to do anything drastic right now, and we understand that Wyatt is grieving, but…"_

"_We? So now you're here as a representative of the Elders? God, Dad, would you even have come to visit me if they hadn't sent you?"_

"_Of course, Chris. But I…"_

"_Then why have you only stopped by twice since Mom's funeral?"_

_Leo shook his head wordlessly. He opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut with a heavy sigh. He fumbled for the right words, and finally said, "I… it's… it's complicated. I can't… the Elders don't… we don't think…"_

"_Nobody cares!" Chris interrupted furiously. "Nobody cares what the Elders think. Don't you get it? Nobody cares about any of you! You are so… so… useless."_

_Leo said nothing. He didn't even try to offer a defense. Instead, his shoulders sagged in defeat._

"_I don't… I can't…" Chris wasn't sure what he was trying to say. The words were stuck in his throat, and even if he could have forced them past the lump that had formed, he doubted they would have been coherent._

"_I'm sorry," Leo offered. "I am so sorry, Chris. I truly am."_

_Chris wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, angrily brushing away tears. He knew Leo was sorry. No matter how complicated and hostile the relationship between his parents occasionally became, he was under no delusions about how much his father had loved his mother. He knew perfectly well that Piper's death was slowly devastating Leo, destroying him from the inside out._

_It was destroying all of them._

_But he didn't care._

_His mother had fought the good fight over and over again. Every threat the Elders had ever mentioned, every rising evil in the Underworld, his mother and his aunts had faced without flinching and without backing down. And what had it gotten them, any of them? What had this family's dedication ever gotten Chris, except a father who was never around and a mother who had bled to death on the kitchen floor?_

_Leo had shown up, of course. Chris had started screaming his head off for his father, and Leo had shown up. Maybe that should have counted for something – but Piper was already gone at that point, and even the Elders couldn't bring back the dead._

"_You're too late, Dad," he said aloud. "You're always too late."_

* * *

><p>He felt angry.<p>

He woke with the feeling clouding his thoughts. In the moment after waking, his dreams were vivid, stark. Before it all faded away, before the nothingness filled his mind again, he felt the frustration spark in his chest. For that brief second, he felt livid and unhappy and dejected and so intensely _alive_.

And it all faded. Everything faded.

He slid out of bed and got dressed.

The doctor had said he might started regaining his memories at any moment, but even if these snippets were actually his and not merely his mind playing tricks on him, it didn't seem to be doing him any good. It didn't tell him anything, didn't help him in anyway.

It just left him feeling alone.

He walked over to the window and stared out at the parking lot in which he'd seen a woman murdered. He hadn't been able to help her, and the image of the stranger disappearing into thin air stayed etched in his mind. How was it possible?

He rubbed his fingers together. He'd given his prints to the police, and it had done no good. He supposed it should be some relief that he wasn't in their database. It meant he didn't have a criminal record, hadn't even been a suspect in a previous crime. Whatever his life had been like in the past, it must have been somewhat virtuous. At least he wasn't a criminal.

Or, possibly, he just hadn't ever been caught.

That was not a particularly comforting thought.

He glanced up. The plaster above him was cracked, fissures spreading out like spiderwebs across his ceiling.

"Please," he whispered. "I just want to remember."

* * *

><p>"<em>Do you remember our wedding day?"<em>

"_Not one of those things I'm likely to forget, Piper."_

"_The Elders let my mother come. She was part of my wedding because of them."_

_Five-year-old Chris pushed his oatmeal around in his bowl. His parents were talking in hushed whispers by the counter; clearly, he was not supposed to be listening. He wasn't particularly interested. They'd been doing this a lot in the couple months since the time the demons had attacked and hurt him and his father had healed him, and it was never very interesting._

_This time, though, his mother sounded sad._

"_They are Good, Piper. They care. I know… I know it doesn't always seem like it. Especially right now. But they do care."_

"_I used to believe that. I don't know if I do anymore." There was a pause, then Chris' mother said, "I mean – I do believe that they are Good. But… they're big-picture Good. They're save-the-world Good. They're not… I don't know, Leo. I don't know that they care about us. I don't know that they care about all the people who get hurt fighting Evil. I think they just care about winning."_

"_If they lose, everybody gets hurt."_

"…_I know." _

_Chris took a bite of oatmeal. He hated oatmeal. _

_He didn't particularly like how sad his mother sounded, either. He considered giving her a hug to make her feel better, but then she and his father would probably stop talking about this. And Chris wanted them to keep talking about the Elders. He liked hearing about them._

"_If you agree to what the Elders are asking… this deal, Leo…"_

"_If it works, all the demons that have tried to hurt our sons these past two months get vanquished. Phoebe can give birth without fearing that some warlock will swoop in and steal her daughter. Piper, if this works, we will set the Underworld back by at least a decade. Our sons will be safe."_

"_There will still be some evil out there, Leo. There will always be demons out there."_

"_Yes. But not the most powerful ones. It will takes years for the Underworld to build itself up, and by that time, Chris and Wyatt will be stronger. They won't be children at that point – and if they get attacked, they will be able to fight back."_

"_So you want to do this?"_

_Another pause. "No. Of course I don't want to do this, Piper. What I would have to give up… I don't want to be an Elder. But… I want to protect Wyatt and Chris. More than anything in the world, I want to keep them safe."_

"_I know."_

"_Besides, the Elders promised they wouldn't take me away permanently. I'd still see all of you all the time."_

"_What they said was that you could see us whenever there wasn't an emergency. But what if there is always an emergency? Or what if they change their minds? They could do that, you know. Once you make the deal, you can't go back on it."_

"_I trust them."_

"_I know. But I don't. If they really cared about individual people and not just the bigger picture, Leo, they wouldn't be asking you to do this."_

"_But what if the bigger picture is that this protects Wyatt and Chris? What if the bigger picture is that this protects Paige and Henry and Phoebe and Coop and all your future nieces and nephews? Wouldn't that make the sacrifice worth it?"_

_There was a third, final pause, much longer than the other two, and although Chris didn't understand what was being talked about, even he was holding his breath, waiting for his mother's answer._

"…_yes."_

* * *

><p>This time, David woke up with the name Halliwell on his lips.<em><br>_


	26. Fines Lines

Chapter Twenty-Two: Fine Lines

Daryl glanced around the room, and felt sick.

The room was circular, with a sloping domed ceiling. There were no windows, but the center of the ceiling held a large skylight that let in bright sunlight. The light cascaded over everything – the chairs in the center of the room, the strange symbols painted on the walls, and the bloody, broken bodies of the women sprawled everywhere.

"It's a Romani temple," a voice said, and a woman appeared at his side. She had long, wavy hair and an angular face, and her lips were set into a hard, straight line. She glanced at him once, sizing him up, then held out her hand, "Inspector Kathleen Sheridan. You're Daryl Morris, right?"

Daryl nodded and shook her hand. "Romani?" he asked uneasily. "Like gypsies?"

Sheridan nodded and glanced down at her notepad. "The man who found them – the janitor, a Thomas Bell – says this was a meeting of high priestesses." She looked up, and scanned the room. Her pale skin went even whiter as she took in the scene once more, and she shook her. "Eighteen bodies."

Daryl nodded slowly. The air was heavy with the stench of decay – the bodies had been here for a couple days.

"Eighteen deaths," he said softly, "and no one heard anything? No one saw anything?" He turned to face Sheridan fully. "No one reported any of these women missing?"

"Yeah. I thought that seemed a bit strange, also," she replied grimly. "This kind of slaughter, combined with the increase in missing and murdered women throughout the city…"

"Not just the city," Daryl interjected quickly. "I had a call from a friend of mine, an officer in L.A. They've got a serial killer there."

Sheridan pursed her lips. "Same M.O.?" she asked.

"No," Daryl replied with a sigh. "But a simultaneous increase in violent crime mainly targeted against women has to mean something."

Sheridan nodded thoughtfully, accepting that explanation, and then stepped away from him. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and held it over her mouth and nose to block out the stench, then walked further into the room. A medical examiner was kneeling down next to one of the bodies, and looked up quickly as Sheridan approached. They exchanged brief words, too quiet for Daryl to hear, and Sheridan's expression grew, if possible, even more grim.

Daryl turned away.

He didn't know anything about the Romani, but there was no way this attack was not related to magic. Yet his attempts to reach Piper had been met with silence. She wasn't answering her cellphone, wasn't returning calls, and didn't appear to even be living at her house any more. And this silence, this lack of answers, was unnerving.

Particularly because Piper had left Wyatt in his charge. She had left her son and disappeared, and Daryl still couldn't imagine what would have driven her to do something that drastic.

At least he knew his house was safe. Piper had doused it with fairy dust – which, apparently, was supposed to do _something_, although he wasn't really sure what – and protection spells, and Wyatt had a force-field that could protect him, could protect all of them. Despite whatever was happening in the rest of the city, perhaps in the rest of the state, his house was probably the safest one in the world.

And yet even that was of little comfort. He didn't have to worry about his family when they were there, but the world seemed to be falling apart all around him. And the only people who could explain what was happening, the people he trusted to put everything back together when things fell apart like this, had disappeared.

He glanced up at the ceiling, at the skylight. "Where are you, Piper?" he whispered.

* * *

><p>The premonition caught Phoebe completely by surprise. One moment she was arguing with Paige about their plans going forward, the next her hand had skimmed against her half-sister's arm and she'd been thrown forward into a violently disturbing premonition.<p>

_The white marble ground was slick with blood, and the white fog that rolled gently through the air did little to block the dead bodies from view. Dark shapes moved quickly through the marble landscape, destroying everything in their path. Several Elders were fighting back, but they were outnumbered by the demons and dark-lighters that seemed to be everywhere._

"Phoebe?"

She heard Piper calling her name as though from a long ways away, and slid slowly to a sitting position on the floor of the cave. Her head throbbed, but the real pain was emotional, a sense of grief and fear and loss that had lodged itself in her chest, leaving her breathless.

She blinked, and cleared away the darkness from her vision. "An attack," she said, forcing out the words, surprised at how much they hurt, "Up There. It's… Oh, God. It's horrible."

Paige was crouching at her side, confusion in her gaze. "But what does that have to do with me?" she asked, glancing between Phoebe and Piper. When both sisters gazed at her with a nonplussed look, she said, "Phoebe touched my arm. That's what gave her the premonition. What does it have to do with me?"

"White-lighter blood," Chris offered, his expression distant. "White-lighters are under attack, and you have white-lighter blood in your veins." Paige raised an eyebrow at him, and he cleared his throat and said, "I learned about it at Magic School. Getting premonitions that way. It's… not common, but not unheard of."

Phoebe closed her eyes. The wounds she had sustained from the recent battle still hurt, and that had combined with the premonition's side effects to leave her feeling weak. But though the exhaustion was seeping into her bones, she found herself saying, "We have to orb Up There. Paige, you can do that, right?"

"_What_?"

That was Piper, outraged and angry, and Phoebe opened her eyes to give her older sister a defiant look. "I'm not going to ignore a premonition, Piper," she said.

Piper shook her head in disbelief. "The Elders probably sent you that premonition. It's a trap."

"Or it could be real. The Elders could be in actual danger," Phoebe countered. She shifted, and winced as the movement caused a sharp pain to lance through her stomach. But she pushed herself back to her feet and placed her hands on her hips. "I didn't ignore my premonitions when I turned evil and became Queen of the Underworld, and I'm not going to start now."

"Wait. _What_?"

Phoebe glanced over at Chris, surprised at his obvious shock. She blinked, and traded a quick, incredulous look with Piper. "You don't know about that?"

Chris shook his head. "No. It's not in the history books." He was frowning, seemingly upset by this bit of information. But Phoebe couldn't tell if he was upset at the knowledge that she had turned evil, or at the fact that he hadn't known about it before. He chewed his lower lip. "You became the Queen of the Underworld?"

"Long story," Phoebe replied, dismissing it. She turned back to Piper. "We have to go, Piper. I won't ignore this."

"Phoebe, don't be stupid," Piper snapped. "The Elders aren't on our side anymore. You don't owe them anything."

"So you want me to ignore the fact that they are being slaughtered?" Phoebe demanded, feeling her temper rise. Her mind was clouded by physical pain and the memory of the premonition, and she wasn't completely sure if it was her own anger she was feeling, or someone else's. But she _was_ mad, and the words came pouring out. "They're not _all_ our enemies, Piper. Some of them are perfectly innocent. A couple of them even tried to help us, to warn us. And regardless of who they are or what they've done, they _still_ don't deserve to be murdered. Don't you _know_ that?"

Piper looked momentarily taken aback, then she retorted heatedly, "They kidnapped Leo. Erased his identity, separated him from his family. They're want to recycle us. We have no idea what they'll do to Chris if they catch him, but I'm guessing it is nothing good. And you want me to protect them?"

"I can't just ignore a premonition! I got it for a reason."

"Yeah," Piper snorted derisively, "the reason being that the Elders want you to bail them out of their newest problem. Like always."

"Or," Paige offered diffidently, clearly not wanting to be in the middle of this argument, "this is a chance for us to prove to the Elders that we are on their side."

"What do you want to bet that they will just accuse us of setting up the attack _just so_ we can save them and therefore trick them into trusting us?" Piper countered.

"I'll take you," Chris said suddenly.

Phoebe turned to him again. "What?"

"I can orb you Up There. You want to protect the Elders? I'll take you." And he extended his hand.

"No, Chris," Piper said swiftly, stepping between the two. She looked actually panicked as she said, "You can't. If you show up there, they'll never let you go."

Chris shrugged. "If Phoebe wants to act on the premonition, she should be able to act on the premonition," he said calmly.

His expression was unreadable, but Phoebe could feel the determination coming off of him in waves. He had made up his mind, and Piper wasn't going to change it. In fact, her protests only made her more determined.

"Fine," Piper snapped. "But she shouldn't have to sacrifice you to do it!"

"I'm not…" Phoebe started, and then stopped. If she allowed Chris to orb her Up There, she would be sacrificing him. She agreed with Piper about that – the Elders would not let him go. That was the whole reason they were all hiding in the Underworld in the first place, and Chris was the main target.

She closed her eyes again. She was tired.

"I don't want anything to happen to you, Chris," she said softly. "Can you just orb me? Not yourself?"

"No," came Chris' almost apologetic answer. "Up There doesn't work like that. You can't orb objects or other people without going yourself." Phoebe opened her eyes in time to see him give a bleak smile. "It's a safety precaution."

"This is ridiculous," Piper grumbled. "I can't believe we're even talking about it." She shot an annoyed look at Chris. "Why would you even care?"

He met her gaze unblinkingly. "They're being _murdered_, Piper," he replied coolly. "Believe me, I dislike the Elders even more than you do – and with good reason. But I know the difference between right and wrong."

Piper's face drained of all color. Chris' comment had been calculated to hurt, and it had clearly struck home. Phoebe was startled by the venom of his words. Even Chris seemed shocked that he had actually said that aloud.

"It isn't that simple," Piper said finally, her voice hoarse and pained. "And you _know_ that, Chris."

Chris swallowed uneasily. Phoebe had a feeling he wanted to take back what he had said, but it was too late and he was too stubborn to back down now. He remained silent, his expression impassive, as though daring Piper to argue further.

Paige broke the impasse.

"I can orb Phoebe Up There. Piper's right, Chris, you should stay." Her eyes flicked to Piper's stomach. "And maybe Piper should stay, too. But Phoebe and I can go."

"What if you need the Power of Three?" Chris protested.

Paige looked uneasy. She had obviously thought of that particular concern, but didn't want to dwell on it. Piper's reluctance to follow-up on this premonition made using the Power of Three doubtful, and without her, there was little Paige or Phoebe would be able to do if they faced a demon they couldn't vanquish on their own.

But Phoebe was determined, and Paige was clearly – hesitantly – on her side.

Piper sighed. "Fine," she acquiesced ungracefully, extending her hand to Paige. "Let's all go. I'm not taking the risk of losing either of you to an upper level demon." Her expression hardened. "And I will vanquish any Elder that comes after us."

Paige took Piper's hand, and then reached for Phoebe, and a moment later they disappeared in a flutter or orbs.

* * *

><p>And so Chris found himself once again alone. It was starting to become a pattern – he would say something, Piper would counter, they'd argue and he'd orb away. Or, in this case, Paige would orb the three sisters away. Either way, he was running from his problems and he knew it, but with the world going up in flames all around him, he didn't have the time or energy to waste on his relationships.<p>

Phoebe had given him a pained look as he'd orbed away, and that had made him feel guilty. He didn't want to feel the guilt, but it clung to him nonetheless, reminding him that – even if the sisters weren't family yet, even if they weren't the people he remembered, the people he loved – they were still his charges, and his continual arguments with Piper were causing the empath pain.

Of course, there was little he could do about it. Try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from snapping every time Piper tried to mother him, and he couldn't stop _her_ from acting like she had the right.

He also couldn't quite ignore Paige's previous words. How could he tell _her_ that it wasn't enough to be loved simply because he was family when that was exactly the reason she'd been accepted into Piper and Phoebe's lives in the first place?

He started pacing.

The memories of Leo filled his mind. He shut his eyes tight, trying to force away the thoughts. He'd spent years in the future perfecting his mask and his walls, building up the ability to compartmentalize, to shut down, to forget. His stay in hell had ruined that, tearing down every emotional protection he'd had, and leaving him feeling vulnerable and raw.

And Leo…

Leo had always found a way of getting underneath his skin even when those barriers had been in place.

He rubbed his eyes. The memories of his father haunted him. Some of them were vivid, memories that had been etched into his mind, burned into the back of his eyes. That first argument about Wyatt, his mother's death, his father's painful absence. But others – the demon attack when he was just a child – had been drawn from the recesses of his mind, events he barely remembered and spent little time thinking of.

He could still feel the warmth of that golden glow, his father's gentle voice, a hand on his shoulder, fingers running through his hair. He hadn't consciously remembered any of it until the spell. Until he'd conjured up his own memories and – hopefully – shoved them across space and into Leo's mind.

But he had always known that, once upon a time, his father had been different. Their relationship had been different. Perhaps he hadn't remembered those events clearly in the past, but he'd at least held onto the feelings they had imparted. The safety of his father's voice, the tight grip of his mother's arms, the sense of family that had pervaded everything.

How had he lost all of that? What had happened to pull them so far apart?

He wondered vaguely if Leo had received the memories. Had they penetrated the Elders' magic? The memories might not make much sense – might be disjointed, fragmented. And they were Chris' memories, so they wouldn't even be from Leo's point of view. But they were all Chris could offer, and he could only pray that it would be enough.

Would Leo understand what he was being given? Would he follow the clues back home?  
>And would his home, and his family, still be standing when he got here?<p>

Chris sighed. There was nothing else he could do for Leo at the moment, and thoughts of his father were even harder to deal with right now.

Instead, he thought about the fact that Phoebe had become Queen of the Underworld. He had no recollection of learning that in Magic School, and the exploits of the Charmed Ones filled the pages of several text books. But the textbooks had been rewritten after Wyatt had seized power, so perhaps he had edited out that bit of information? Maybe it didn't fit in with the story he wanted to tell, the story he wanted the world to know.

Chris wondered vaguely what other information Wyatt had edited away.

But thinking about that question, while intriguing, also wasn't particularly useful at the moment. Gideon was gone, Wyatt was safe, and this new future would undoubtedly be different from Chris' past. But with the magical community at war and evil quickly gaining the upper hand, it seemed unlikely the new future would be much better than the old one, and Chris had not come to the past and gone through hell – metaphorical and literal – just to exchange one bad future for another.

Lucifer nearly destroyed the world once. Chris knew very little about that, though Leo had alluded to it a few times. It hadn't been in the history books, but then, the history books didn't go back the few millennia necessary to cover this specific event. The Elders were the only ones who knew how that war had ended – at least, the ones who had actually survived it.

But that was the important point. They had survived it – some of them, anyway. Lucifer had nearly destroyed the world, but he _hadn't_. Why not? What had stopped him that time?

Given the state of things, Chris sincerely doubted that he'd be able to convince any demons to turn on Lucifer – yet. Betraying the devil was suicide, or at least close to it, and it wasn't something any demon would do while Good was crumbling. He needed some kind of leverage, needed to convince them that Good _could_ win before they would even consider it.

Chris chewed his lip for a moment, thinking.

If Phoebe's premonition was true – and there was no reason to think that it wasn't – then the Elders would be fleeing Up There. And some Elders had indicated that they still trusted the Charmed Ones, that they didn't think Leo and the sisters had been corrupted. If Chris could find an Elder who was sympathetic to his cause – or, at least, would be willing to hear him out – and who had survived the previous civil war...

But who would that be?

* * *

><p><em>No matter how many times he washed his hands, they would never be clean. He could still see Prue's blood dried underneath his nails, pooled in the lines on his palms.<em>

_He rubbed his hands on his jeans._

_The room was silent. Bianca had slipped away only moments before, leaving Chris to his thoughts. Her silent understanding had been excruciatingly painful – he would have preferred condemnation and judgment. He would have preferred anger. He would have preferred something loud and heated, something that matched his own furious mood. He would have preferred to be yelled at, to be blamed. This gentle sympathy…_

_He blamed himself. Why wouldn't anyone else?_

_He saw it, sometimes, in Aunt Paige's gaze. She would never say the words aloud, but when she thought he wasn't looking, a question would flicker through her eyes. A what if._

_What if Chris had gotten to Prue sooner? Or what if she had gone instead? What if they'd all known more, worked harder, moved faster?_

_What if Prue could have been saved?_

_The door to the room opened, and Chris turned._

_Darius stood there._

_Chris had never felt comfortable around the other Elder. It was more than his own dislike of Elders, more than a lingering sense that they should have been able to protect his family better. Darius himself bothered Chris. He was the oldest Elder Chris had ever met, and the mostly coldly calculating. He was constantly looking at the bigger picture, the Greater Good, willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to save the world._

_Of course, Chris thought bitterly, he had just murdered his own cousin, so perhaps he no longer had a right to judge Darius._

_Darius held the potion bottle in his hand. Chris couldn't even bring himself to look at it. He'd killed Prue for this – this tiny, insignificant bottle. Yes, the potion would have killed countless people, destroyed society, torn it apart at the seems. And yet, looking at it now, it was just a nondescript potion in a nondescript bottle._

_Was it really worth Prue's life?_

_Darius studied Chris face intently, then said, "I've analyzed the potion." He held up a notepad covered in scrawled details, information that would allow Chris to manufacture the counter-potion. "We should be able to create the antidote before Wyatt can brew another."_

_Chris nodded. "I'll get on it," he said, reaching to take the potion and notepad from Darius. He was the best potion maker in the Resistance, and he was better at it than even Wyatt was._

_It was possibly the only thing he was better at than Wyatt._

_He stepped past Darius, intent on leaving the room, but the Elder held out a hand to block Chris' path. His eyes were unreadable as he searched Chris' face, and his lips flattened into a thin line. "It was necessary," he said bluntly._

_Chris bristled. "She was my family," he hissed angrily, green eyes flashing at the Elder who dared to so casually dismiss Prue's death._

"_Yes," Darius answered, "and you killed her because it was necessary." He paused just long enough for Chris to know what was coming before adding, "If you can kill Prudence, you can kill Wyatt, too."_

* * *

><p>Everything was chaos, and Piper found herself fighting back.<p>

The white marble was slick with blood and the air vibrated with power as an all out war raged all around them. It was a kind of battle the sisters had never seen before, a fight that took on everyone, and left nothing untouched. It was messy and bloody and painful, and Piper doubted she would ever forget the sights and smells that assaulted her senses. It was chaos – too out of control to be understandable, discernible. There was movement everywhere, lines and colors bleeding together, jumbled words and screams mixing into an indecipherable clamor.

Despite her anger, despite her grief, despite her fear, despite her determination to stop helping the Elders, to just give up – Piper found herself fighting back.

Demons exploded into ash and fire all around her, but more kept taking their place. This wasn't the relatively neat and orderly vanquishes she had been used to – and wasn't it strange to now realize that those vanquishes had been neat and orderly? They'd been nothing at all like this.

Was this what a war looked like?

A demon grabbed her arm, a cold metal athame sliding across her skin, just barely catching her shoulder. She exhaled sharply at the stab of pain, and slammed her elbow backwards, blinding connecting with her attacker. It was not a graceful move, not even particularly coordinated, and she nearly tripped over the rubble on the floor as she spun around to face the demon.

Yellow eyes. Black tongue. She barely registered anything else as she flicked her wrists and vanquished the being.

And another took its place.

Her feet slid over the damp ground as she stumbled towards the nearest pillar – half-broken, chunks of marble everywhere. But if offered her some shelter, and she took it gratefully. She'd lost sight of Phoebe in the fray, but she pushed the panic down. She couldn't lose her focus or she'd die, and then what good would she be to anyone?

She touched her stomach, fingers running lightly over the skin. She shouldn't be here – she'd put Chris in danger.

She had to get out. She had to get her sisters out. They shouldn't have come – and she certainly shouldn't have come. She'd thought it be different – like the Titans, maybe, or the Source. A single demon, or just a few, and no matter how powerful they were, no matter what those enemies had taken from Piper in the past, it still would have been… not this – not _this_.

Bile rose in her throat, choking her.

She had to get out.

But.

How could she leave the Elders now, seeing this destruction? It was one thing to dismiss it all when it was only something Phoebe had seen, when she herself hadn't witnessed it. But now – no. She shook her head. She couldn't just – just leave.

Everything was chaos, but Piper got up and continued fighting.

* * *

><p>The man – David – typed the name Chris Halliwell into the search engine. No websites or news articles came up, and he leaned back in his chair, trying to recall more from the dream. There was another name on the tip of his tongue, lingering, waiting to be said, if only he could remember…<p>

But it wouldn't come.

He got up and left the computer terminal at the library. He glanced around once, quickly. School-age children gathered in groups around the shelves of books in the youth section, whispering to each other and flipping through titles. A handful of toddlers sat in a semi-circle around a librarian, listening with rapt attention to the weekly storytime reading while their mothers and fathers mingled about, chatting with each other. A few older students – college, probably – sat with their laptops open at a row of tables, flipping through reference manuals and taking copious notes. An elderly couple stood nearby, asking a librarian for help.

David let out a long breath. Everything looked so peaceful here. Would he ever have that? _Had_ he had that at one time?

Although the dreams were finally offering him hope that he might soon remember who he was, he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he _didn't_ actually want to know. The dreams had left him uneasy, feeling bitter and scared and filled with grief for things he didn't remember, things he couldn't explain.

Was this really a life he wanted to remember?

Still, if he had indeed left behind a family, what other choice did he have but to try?

He glanced at the clock. It was almost time to get to work. No matter how progress he made, or didn't make, in remembering his past, he still had to live in the present. And that meant surviving in the here and now.

He swung his coat over his shoulders and started towards the exit of the library. As he did so, a small, brown-haired boy ran directly in front of him, forcing him to stop abruptly and nearly lose his balance in order to avoid a collision. "Sorry, mister," the child called over his shoulder as he raced towards the children's section.

David stared after the boy, and felt a pang of longing in his chest.

"Sorry about that," a voice said, and a harried blonde woman appeared at his side. She looked to be about David's age, though a bit more frayed around the edges. "My son doesn't always watch where he is going." She glanced towards the boy in question, and added with a rueful smile, "Actually, he pretty much never watches where he is going. But he loves reading, so how can I argue with his enthusiasm?"

David waved away the apology. "It's fine," he said with a smile of his own. "No harm done."

The woman was carrying a bunch of fliers in her arms, things she had evidently just picked up from the librarian's desk. David glanced at the top one.

Community college.

The woman followed his gaze. "Yeah," she said sheepishly. "I just… I know it's strange. I mean – I'm too old for college, right? It would just be a waste of time."

"I wasn't thinking that at all," David rushed to assure her.

She barely noticed that he had spoken, instead continuing, "It's just that – things happen, you know? Life changes. All of sudden, everything is different and you just have to…" She shook her head, a defiant, angry move. "It would be so easy to sink, but I can't. I've got – responsibilities. I have to – things change, and I have to keep going. I have to figure out how to… to…"

"Start over?" David suggested.

She started, as though just then realizing that she was actually talking aloud. "I'm sorry – I don't know why I'm telling you all this," she said, tripping over her words. "I just… you're easy to talk to, and I needed to… to say that. I need to…"

"Hear yourself say the words so that you could believe in them?" David again finished her thoughts.

"Yeah… Starting over isn't easy, and I… I don't know…" She trailed off for a moment. "I'm sorry. Really. I should just… I'm going to stop talking now."

David smiled warmly. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I understand completely. Sometimes you just need someone to listen."

She nodded, gave him one last, thoughtful look, and then hurried after her son.

* * *

><p>"How did you find me?" Darius asked.<p>

"I knew you in the future," Chris replied. He glanced around at the view from the top of the Golden Gate bridge. How many times had he come here in the past? How many times had he wanted solace and solitude, only to have Darius track him down and demand that he face up to his responsibilities – namely, defeating Wyatt?

He smiled grimly. The irony wasn't lost on him.

There was blood on Darius' robes. Not much, just a small stain spreading upwards from the golden hem and a few splotches on his hood.

"Also," Chris added, "you're not exactly _hiding_."

Darius stared at him with unreadable eyes. The lines in his skin seemed to grow deeper as he regarded Chris, and it struck Chris for a moment, how very old Darius was. He'd known that, of course – that's why he's sought out this particular Elder. Because he was old enough to have survived the last civil war. But somehow he hadn't expected Darius to actually look his age.

He hadn't looked it in the future.

Or perhaps Chris' memories were all tainted by his own bias, by how unbending, how harsh, how larger-than-life Darius had always seemed.

"I oversaw Leo's trial," Darius said. "We called a Council of Elders." He looked away from Chris, out over the city. "Michael did most of the talking, as usual," he added, a slightly disdainful inflection on Michael's name. "Of course – he's dead now."

"Michael?"

"Yes." Darius slanted a sideways look at Chris, a gleam in his eyes. "Did you think I meant Leo?"

Chris didn't reply – he didn't trust his voice not to give away the triumph he felt at the confirmation that he had been right – that Leo was alive. And somewhere out there.

"How many Elders got out?" Chris asked finally, glancing up towards the sky.

"Not many," Darius said flatly, unemotionally. "Enough, though, to start over – start again." He ran a hand over his robe, smoothing out the wrinkles with a thoughtful frown. "Though it will be a long time before our home is safe again."

Chris blinked. Darius' words were so calm, so calculated. The fact that individual Elders had died did not seem to bother him so long as enough had survived to continue.

Well, that was not a surprise, was it? Darius believed in protecting the world at all costs, and if the Greater Good demanded a sacrifice…

"Did you know of Gideon's plans?" Chris demanded suddenly, angrily, forgetting his original reason for seeking out this particular Elder.

But Darius gave him a blank look. "What?" he asked, puzzled. "Oh – you mean with regards to Wyatt Halliwell?" He shook his head grimly. "No. I would have stopped him if I had."

"Because you're against killing?" Chris said, almost mockingly, memories of Prue haunting him.

"Because it was ill planned," Darius replied derisively. "Only a fool rushes so blindly into something like that."

Chris was momentarily speechless, anger thudding in his chest. He knew Darius would always favor the Greater Good, the bigger picture, but he honestly hadn't expected the Elder to say his main reason for opposing Gideon's plan to kill an innocent child was because it was poorly thought out. It was almost as though right and wrong didn't enter into it at all.

Darius heaved a sigh. "What are you doing here, Christopher?"

Chris shook his head, trying to clear away his thoughts. Could he trust Darius? Should he even continue down this path?

"The last time Lucifer did this, the last civil war – how did it end?" Chris asked at last.

Darius' expression grew hard, his brow furrowing, his eyes darkening dangerously, and Chris inhaled sharply. _This_ was the Darius he knew in the future.

"Everyone died," Darius said simply, bluntly. "It ended when there was no one left to fight."

Chris folded his arms over his chest. "There has to be more to it than that," he countered. "If Lucifer had had his way, he wouldn't have left _anyone_."

"Are you fool enough to claim you understand the way Lucifer thinks?" Darius snapped back, eyebrows raised.

Chris winced inwardly, but kept his face carefully impassive. Darius was right, of course. He didn't know how Lucifer thought, and he supposed it was entirely possible that the devil would have allowed some of Good to remain. Perhaps he'd wanted to save their destruction for a later date. After all, he'd admitted to liking a _challenge_.

Still, Darius' response had been sharp, defensive. Chris' words had struck a nerve, though he was at a loss as to what exactly it could be.

"Well, how did the war start, then?" Chris asked.

"Some fool made a deal with the devil, thinking he was smart enough to outrun the consequences," Darius replied.

Chris looked away – the Elder's barb had struck home. He'd made the first deal with Lucifer, opened the can of worms that had allowed this all to play out, that had brought about the war. It might not be entirely his fault that things had ended up this way, but he'd started it.

And he really should have known better.

"I'm just trying to help," Chris said, forcing the words through clenched teeth. "Don't you want to stop all this?"

"Do you really think it is that simple?" Darius countered. "We are well past the point of no return, Christopher. This war is no longer about you or the Charmed Ones or Leo. And there is no going back."

"I don't believe that," Chris argued, refusing to back down. "Evil is tearing us apart. Do you really want to just give up? Don't you want to fight them? Don't you _care_?"

Darius' eyes grew darker, his expression thunderous. "More than you do, certainly," he replied, his tone dangerously soft. "Was it worth it? Saving your brother – was it worth the destruction it caused?"

Chris did not answer, and Darius turned his back on the younger man.

Darius had refused to be helpful, his own self-righteous spite blinding him. But Chris _knew_ the Elder. And despite being an Elder, Darius had always valued actions over words, and had never wasted time with pretty speech's or suggestions of meditating.

Darius simply never wasted time – period.

And he hadn't left yet.

"You wanted me to kill Wyatt," Chris said. Darius tossed a confused look over his shoulder, and Chris elaborated, "In the future. After he'd turned evil, destroyed everything… you wanted me to kill him. You said it was the only way. But I didn't – _couldn't_. My reluctance never mattered to you," and here he could not keep the bitterness out of words, "you didn't care about the pain a single individual would feel. You saw the world destroyed, and decided killing Wyatt would be for the best, and to hell with whoever got hurt in the process."

Darius gazed at him. "Was I wrong?"

Chris forced himself to take a deep breath and ignore the question. Pressing on, he said, "You didn't attack me when I showed up. You've stood here and talked, and even though you haven't been particularly _helpful_, you also haven't tried to hand me over to whichever Elders remain."

"Your point, Christopher?"

"You're interested in the bigger picture, Darius. You don't care about individual people, you don't think about their wants and needs. You think only about how they can help protect the world."

Again, Darius repeated the same sentiment, "Is that wrong?"

"You haven't attacked me because you don't think I'm a threat," Chris suggested. "And you haven't left yet because you think I might actually be able to help."

Darius hesitated, then ever so slowly inclined his head.


	27. Trapped in Purgatory

Chapter Twenty-Three: Trapped in Purgatory

David was irritated.

He stared at the private investigator sitting across from him, and tried to convince himself that, if their positions were reversed, he would be behaving in a similar fashion. This was his problem, after all, and it was unfair to expect the private investigator to care. Particularly given how bizarre and unreal it all sounded. The private investigator was well within his rights to refuse David's request, and David would likely be doing the same if the situation was reversed.

But at the very least, David would not be this dismissive.

"So… just so that I understand this, Mr. … Smith," the private investigator said with a stiffly polite smile, "you have complete amnesia. You have no idea who you are or where you are from, and you have no money. And you would like me to help you locate your family?"

David forced himself to smile as he replied confidently, "I am sure that my family would be more than willing to pay you, Mr. Wright."

"Are you?"

William Wright wore an expensive, well-tailored suit with a fancy silk tie. His cuff-links were hand-crafted white-gold; his shoes were imported from Italy.

David was wearing jeans and a well-worn coat that he'd purchased at a cheap thrift shop.

Wright tapped his fingers against his desk in a manner that conveyed just how bored he was. His gaze slanted downwards quickly, checking the time on his watch. "Mr. Smith," he said in a tone of fake sincerity, "I understand your predicament; I do. And I have the utmost sympathy for you, and for your family. But this office does not do pro bono work, and you can't, in all fairness, promise me that your family will be able to pay."

"They will," David said stubbornly, even though, of course, he had no idea if that was true. But when it became clear that Wright was still too doubting to listen, David said, "Can we create some form of contract? I can pay in increments. I just don't have all the money right now, but I do have a job."

Wright looked very much as though he wanted to question the validity of _that_ statement, but chose to say instead, "Even if that was possible, there just isn't much to go on here, Mr. Smith. You have no clues for me, and you don't know if the search can be narrowed to Los Angeles, or even to California."

"I have a name," David said desperately. "Halliwell. Chris Halliwell."

"Ah. Yes. The name you… dreamt?" Wright said, a slight inflection of skepticism in his words. He leaned back in his leather seat and regarded David carefully. "And yet when you searched for this name, you found nothing helpful." He smiled without any warmth. "Don't you think if this person was… real… he would have shown up _somewhere_ online? The white pages, a business or university directory, a news article? An email address, a website?"

"I, well… maybe?" David muttered, discouraged. He knew it was strange that this name – this one and only clue that was left to him – had yielded nothing.

Wright nodded, as though that settled the matter of the mysterious name. "You said the social worker who helped you offered to place an ad in the _Los Angeles Times_. Has she done that yet?"

David shook his head. "She's still going through the paperwork," he explained. He didn't say what else he thought – that there was an absurd amount of paperwork to be done, and how did any social work agency survive under the crushing bureaucracy?

"I see," Wright said noncommittally.

David smiled tightly and thought to himself that Wright clearly _didn't_ see, and didn't _care_.

"Perhaps it would be best to wait until your social worker can finish the paperwork and post the ad? Give it some time, see if anything shows up?" Wright suggested.

David nodded glumly. It wasn't bad advice, he supposed, but he didn't know how long that would take or if anyone from his past would read the missing persons ad and recognize him. "I just… I hate this. I hate feeling helpless, like I'm stuck, waiting for someone else to start my life for me," he confided, frustration filling his voice. "I can't move forward with a new life here because I might have to leave it all, but I can't go back to my past because I don't remember it."

"I am so sorry," Wright said. "I do wish I could help."

But his tone was not sympathetic, not compassionate or supportive. It was impatient. He wanted David to walk out of his office so that he could move on to the next client – one who could actually pay his fees.

"Oh, please," David snapped, rising to his feet. "You don't care at all, so stop pretending."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back. He was under no delusions – nothing he said or didn't say would change Wright's decision. But although some of his irritation was due to the man's uncaring attitude, most of it was really more a reflection of the entire situation, and he shouldn't take his anger out on the private investigator.

But he couldn't take the words back, and he had a feeling that apologizing for them would only make the situation worse.

So instead, he said stiffly, "Thank you for your time," and showed himself out of the office.

Alone in the hallway, he closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

It wasn't fair to blame Wright for not taking on his case. It did seem rather hopeless, after all, and it was true that he didn't have the money right now. But did he have to be so casually dismissive, did he have to act so indifferent?

David shook his head and walked towards the elevators. He could continue this hunt, he supposed – continue looking for a private investigator who would help him, continue wandering around Los Angeles in the hopes that something would jog his memory, continue searching online for anything related to the name that had popped up in his mind. What other choice did he have?

And yet – would it ever get him anywhere? Or would he spend the rest of his life trapped in this in-between, not knowing who he was, unable to become someone new?

* * *

><p>David ordered the cheapest beer on the menu and took a seat at the bar. It was just slightly above seedy, clean enough but not quite respectable. The other patrons were a mix of college students and blue-collar workers, with the occasional well-dressed person looking very out of place.<p>

The bartender smiled gamely at David. "Rough day, mate?" he asked, wiping down the bar will a damp rag.

"Something like that," David replied. "Are you… Australian?" he asked, trying to place the accent.

"New Zealand." The bartender wrinkled his nose in mock horror. "You think I sound Australian?"

"Uh… sorry?" David offered.

The bartender laughed. "You seem nice enough, so I'll let it pass. Just this once."

David nodded and sipped his beer. It wasn't particularly good, but that didn't matter much to him at the moment.

He squinted through the dim light to make out the bartender's name-tag. "So, Nate," he said casually, "how long have you worked here?"

"In the bar? Four-and-a-half years. In the good old US of A? Nearly eight." Nate leaned his elbow on the bar, grinning. He had an easy smile. "Came here for college, met a girl, decided to stay."

David noticed the glint of silver – the man's wedding ring. He looked down at his own bare fingers. Had there been a wedding ring there once? Had he lost it when he lost his memories, or had he never been married? He rubbed at the finger with his thumb, trying to figure out whether or not the absence of the ring made it feel naked.

A part of him still clung to the hope that someday he would just _know_ the answer to that question. That perhaps he would look down at his bare ring finger and it would seem _wrong_, and he would then know that there was someone out there, waiting for him to come home. Or perhaps the opposite – it would suddenly seem perfectly _right_ that he didn't have a wedding ring, and he'd know that he'd never found the right woman.

He sighed. Right now, when he looked at his own hand, he felt nothing.

"What about you?" Nate asked, noting David's brooding. "What's your story?"

David smiled wistfully. "I wish I knew," he murmured before lapsing into silence. He took a gulp of beer. Nate gave him a quizzical look, but opted not to press the issue, and slowly drifted away to his more talkative customers.

David drummed his fingers on the counter, and continued to drink his beer.

The emptiness in his chest was growing, gnawing away at his insides. It was strange, trying to think about the situation intellectually. He was completely alone – no family, no friends, no past – but he shouldn't be able to miss any of those things because he didn't remember having them in the first place. How could he miss what he didn't remember?

Or was he missing what he _thought_ he should have, not what he actually did have?

A young woman slid onto the bar stool next to him. She had dark red hair died with vivid purple streaks, and a tiny green stone set in silver for a nose ring. She couldn't have been much older than twenty-one, and she tapped her ID against the car in a nervous, skittish manner. She gave David a quick, appraising look, decided he wasn't a threat and would probably leave her alone, and relaxed slightly.

She chewed her lip.

Nate returned to take her order, and checked her ID with a skeptical look. But he must have determined that she was old enough to be at the bar, because he returned a moment later with her beer and a plate of fries. She munched on the fries, twisting in her seat so that she could shoot quick glances towards the door.

Unable to stop himself, David asked, "Is everything alright, miss?"

The girl gave him a startled, wide-eyed look, and then nodded. "Everything's fine," she said firmly, ending the conversation there.

David struggled, wanting to say more, wanting to push. Everything obviously wasn't alright, as evidenced by her tense gaze and jumpy demeanor. And David had to fight back the need to reach out and comfort her, to tell her that everything would be alright. But she was staring at him with an edge to her gaze, as though daring him to contradict her, and he swallowed back his response and nodded.

But he _so_ wanted to help.

She turned away from him, and he went back to his own beer and his troubled thoughts.

He wasn't happy - and it wasn't just because he didn't know who he was.

There was something else missing. It had slipped into his subconscious without him noticing it. In the hospital bathroom talking to the terrified pregnant teenager, in his apartment overlooking the murdered woman at the edge of the parking lot, in the library talking to the young mother who felt like she was disappearing under the weight of everything. And now here, at the bar.

It wasn't something that he had been willing to admit before, but the urge to speak to the red-and-purple haired girl had been too strong to ignore and the truth of the situation could not be disregarded.

He was unhappy because he wanted to be helping people. It felt like a calling, a purpose - something he needed to do.

He didn't like having to rely on other people – the social worker, the temp agency – but it wasn't a pride issue. Or, at least, it wasn't just about pride. He didn't want to accept the help of others because _he_ was the one who was supposed to be doing the helping.

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't notice that anything was wrong until the girl beside him suddenly jumped from her seat, tossed a handful of crumpled bills onto the bar, and darted towards the door. David stared after her, surprised and bewildered, and then glanced down at her now empty stool.

She'd left her wallet behind.

He picked it up automatically and started for the door himself, waving to Nate to show that he was just returning the wallet and would be back to pay his bill shortly. The trusting bartender nodded his understanding and let David leave without stopping him, and a moment later he'd stepped out onto the street.

The bar was situated near the entrance to an alley, and David caught a glimpse of red-and-purple hair disappearing around the corner of the building.

"Hey, wait," he called out, and hurried after her.

When he turned the building, he saw the girl sprawled on the ground, two men looming over her. They turned to stare at him in unison, yellow eyes burning from beneath unruly black hair.

Yellow eyes?

"What the...?" David started.

The girl took advantage of her attackers' momentary distraction and rolled to her hands and knees. She stumbled backwards as fast as she could, crawling over the ground until her back was against a wall. Her breathing was shallow and labored, and David saw the bruises starting to form on the skin underneath her torn shirt. Her face was sheet-white, and her eyes were filled with fear.

One of the men drew a knife out of his overcoat. It was a strange silver dagger with an oddly ornamental hilt. As he took a threatening step towards David, the girl summoned what little strength she had and screamed, "_No!_"

Only it was unlike any scream David had ever heard. It slammed into him, a physical force that knocked him back several steps and crushed in on his lungs. He gasped for breath, the blood pounding in his ears. His vision went black, and tiny shards of glass and brick rained down on him as everything around him seemed to shatter.

He fell to his knees.

He was deaf and blind - an expanse of dark silence stretching out in all directions. He could taste blood in his mouth, could feel his heart pounding so frantically he thought it might actually burst out of his chest.

It felt like forever, though it might have only been a second.

Then he felt fingers brushing along his shoulder, and heard jumbled words calling to him in a panic. He couldn't make out the words at first - they sounded distant and indistinct.

Then, finally, "Oh, _God_... are you dead?"

He blinked, and the world around him started to realign itself.

The red-and-purple haired girl was standing over him, shaking him gently. The ground was littered with broken glass and brick, and large cracks had appeared in the cement, originating from where the girl had been sitting and spreading out like a spiderweb. In the distance, he could hear the sound of sirens, and several people were now milling about on the sidewalk behind them.

In front of him, in the middle of the destruction, the two men lay face down on the ground, still and silent.

David gasped for breath.

The girl drew back, surprised. "You're... unharmed?" she asked, surprised. Her gaze flicked over him, bewildered. "But how?"

David stared at her mutely, uncomprehending.

"Talia said any mortal would be seriously injured, maybe even killed," the girl continued, muttering the words under her breath, "and that's why I wasn't supposed to..." She shook her head, too scared and confused to be coherent, and continued mumbling, "I wasn't supposed to - I didn't even mean to use it, but then I thought they were going to kill you and I panicked and it just... happened."

None of that made any sense to David, but the ringing in his ears had finally stopped, so he climbed unsteadily to his feet and asked the first question that came to mind. "Who's Talia?"

"My white-lighter," the girl answered automatically. She paused then, tears filling her eyes. "Or she was. I kept calling for her after they showed up," she glanced down at the two unconscious - dead? - men and wiped at her eyes. "She didn't answer. She never ignores me. She never doesn't answer." She looked back at David, and then looked past him, at the crowd of spectators, and her eyes grew, if possible, even wider.

The sirens were getting closer.

"I have to go," she said frantically, pulling away from David. "Before the police come, or worse..." Again, she looked down at her would-be attackers. "Before more of _them_ come." She turned and started down the alley, half-limping on a clearly injured ankle.

And David, for reasons he couldn't explain, followed her.

* * *

><p><em>Chris leaned over the map, a frown marring his features. None of this made sense – there was no logic in Wyatt's most recent movements, no pattern that could explain his goal. It looked like a series of random attacks of no strategic importance.<em>

_But Wyatt would not do something that._

"_You are grasping at straws, Christopher."_

_Chris tensed. Although the Resistance had been created as a safe haven for anyone who wanted to escape the terror of Wyatt's regime, and although Chris knew they couldn't very well refuse sanctuary to someone simply because he didn't like them… well, it didn't mean he wanted Darius here._

_The Elder was a recent addition to the Resistance, and the power and knowledge at his disposal had proved invaluable over the past few weeks. But his view of the world was too harsh, too unemotional, for Chris' comfort. It was as though he truly did not see the value in caring about individual people – only the Greater Good mattered._

"_I know you want to believe that your brother is rational," Darius continued, stepping into the room. He walked around to the opposite side of the table and stared down at the map. "But there is no pattern here."_

"_Whatever you think of Wyatt," Chris said coolly, "he is not a demon – he doesn't kill for fun."_

_Darius glanced at him with pity. "He doesn't kill – period. He has his demons do it for him, and this," Darius gestured towards the haphazard markings on the map, "this is what happens when he lets demons wander free."_

_Chris shook his head. "You're wrong," he snapped. "There's something here – I _know_ it. And I'm going to find it."_

"_No, you won't," Darius scoffed. "All you will do is waste time." He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "Open your eyes, Christopher. Face the truth."_

"_The truth?" Chris echoed, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at Darius with barely concealed contempt. He was too young for this – too young to have lost his mother, to be estranged from his father, to have to fight against his power-hungry brother. He was too young and too inexperienced and too tired to spend every day with the weight of the world crushing down on his shoulders. And yet he was doing it because he didn't have a choice._

_And Darius really thought he could walk in here and start lecturing Chris on all the things he was doing wrong?_

"_The truth is that people are dying. My _brother_ is letting them die," Chris said through clenched teeth. His voice shook with pain and anger. "There has to be a reason."_

_Darius stared at him with unreadable eyes. "You so desperately want to believe that your brother is allowing all these deaths because they help him somehow – because they serve a _purpose_." He shook his head slowly. "You don't want to face the fact that he is letting innocents die because he simply doesn't _care_."_

* * *

><p>"Ignoring your second deal with Lucifer for the moment," Darius said, "we need to focus on the first."<p>

Chris bit back the urge to respond with something unpleasant. Darius often spoke like that – condescending, peremptory – or, at least, he did in the future, and it never failed to annoy Chris. He'd always seemed to believe he should have command of every room he entered, that the knowledge he'd gained over the centuries and the natural authority that came with being an Elder made him more qualified than anyone else in any situation ever.

Chris had dealt with it in the future; Darius' help had always been vital, and it wasn't as though there had really been an alternative. But it still made him tense.

So now, facing that arrogance once again, he found himself replying caustically, "Yes, let's focus on that, because it is not as though the Elders did anything wrong."

Darius interlaced his fingers and gazed at Chris dispassionately.

They were sitting in the backroom at P3, and Chris was a little surprised that the club itself had been left alone in all the recent turmoil. Everyone – Elders and demons – knew of its connection to the Charmed Ones, making it a logical place for an attack. But it appeared as untouched now as it had been the last time he'd been here – when he had vanquished Lola.

Chris frowned, and glanced around quickly. Was Lucifer listening in on their conversation? It was entirely possible, and there really wasn't anywhere he could go to be safe from the devil's eavesdropping. A fact that Darius must have known as well, though he did not mention it.

Why dwell on something that couldn't be changed?

Finally, Darius said, "We can focus on whatever you would like, Christopher, but if your plan is to stop the devil, then does it not make sense to start at the beginning?" He paused, regarding Chris thoughtfully. "Or am I wrong? Did your family interact with Lucifer even earlier than that first deal?"

Chris shook his head. "They hadn't met Lucifer before, and neither had I. It wasn't until Lola…"

"The sorceress?" Darius interjected.

"Yes. Her. It wasn't until Lola started seeking me out with messages from Lucifer that I even… considered it…" And again there was that question that haunted him, taunted him, hiding in the recesses of his mind. Why _had_ he made the deal with Lucifer? How could he have done something that monumentally stupid? He'd known better, and yet he'd deceived himself into believing that this wouldn't spiral out of his control, that he wouldn't end up regretting it.

He'd just been so _desperate_.

Darius gave Chris a long, searching look. "So why did he choose them? Why did he choose _you_? Why was he so sure you could start this war for him?" He leaned back in his chair and stared up towards the ceiling with a heavy frown. He was obviously pondering something, some long ago memory.

It was strange, Chris reflected, to see an Elder sitting in a folding chair. He was too big, and his robes – even blood-stained – were too elegant in contrast to the cheapness of the chair. He was entirely out of place in this bizarre tableau.

Chris had seen Darius do many unconventional things in the future, but somehow this… this was _weird_.

Chris looked away. Darius' question bothered him. He couldn't argue with the logic; he had been the one to invite Lucifer into all their lives. Still, it seemed as though Darius was blaming him for all this destruction, and he wasn't going to let the Elder put all the blame on his shoulders.

After all, if Gideon hadn't been hell-bent on murdering a child, Chris wouldn't have been forced back in time in the first place.

Defensively, Chris said, "Something like this – this war… Lucifer had to have been planning it for a while. Longer than I've been back here. He couldn't have known I was coming."

Darius clicked his tongue against his teeth impatiently. "Why do you insist on understanding Lucifer's actions?" he questioned irritably. "Stop being such a fool."

"I'm _not_ a fool," Chris retorted heatedly, biting off each word. "Don't patronize me; we both know that starting this civil war was not something Lucifer decided to do on a whim."

"Do we?" Darius countered disdainfully. "Or are you just desperately trying to convince yourself of that because you don't want to take any responsibility for what you've done."

"What _I've_ done?"? Chris demanded, surging out of his seat on the sofa and taking a few furious steps towards Darius. He checked himself just in time, but there was a fury burning in his chest that made him want to lash out, to strike the Elder.

He turned away, ran a hand through his hair, and took a long, shaky breath.

All he had ever done was take responsibility. For his own mistakes, and for things that were in no way his fault and never should have been forced onto him. Mistakes other people made that had ruined his life.

"What about all the things that the Elders did?" he said, forcing himself to speak calmly. "What about Gideon?"

"Don't blame me for Gideon," Darius replied disinterestedly, as though the very thought of Gideon's actions was beneath him. "As I've already told you, I had nothing to do with his misguided choices."

Chris turned slowly to face Darius. "His misguided choices destroyed my childhood," he said softly, dangerously. "They tore apart everything I cared about, everything I loved."

"Well, your misguided choices rather disastrously affected my life," Darius answered flatly. "You never should have made that first deal with Lucifer."

Chris shook his head. He'd been trying to save his brother, protect the world, and he didn't need Darius dumping more blame on him. The guilt he currently felt was already threatening to drown him.

"I was trying to save the future," Chris hissed through clenched teeth.

"So was Gideon," Darius answered. "Either way, people suffered."

"I'm _not_ Gideon!"

Darius shook his head in clear frustration at Chris' response, but then sighed and said softly, "No. No, you're not." That admission calmed Chris somewhat, though he still had to take several deep breaths in order to think rationally again.

They had gotten far off track, although that wasn't a surprise. There was too much bitter resentment on Chris' side for this conversation not to be tainted by his memories of Darius from the future. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't put it aside. He couldn't look at this man and not see the future version – the cold, uncaring, unfeeling Elder who had never once bothered to feel sympathy for Chris' plight.

He would always think the worst of Darius now, because Darius had always thought the worst of him in the future.

Chris sank back onto the sofa and rubbed his eyes. "This is getting us nowhere," he muttered. "Like every conversation we ever had in the future."

"We didn't get along? Oh – how shocking," Darius deadpanned, and his response was just enough out of character that Chris started, surprised. Then the Elder continued sourly, "Were you always this insufferable? Because I can understand my not caring for someone who won't listen to others."

"_I_ won't listen…?" Chris spluttered. "I'm the one who came to _you_, asked for _your_ opinion. And you immediately blamed me for everything and refused to listen to my counterarguments!"

Darius rolled his eyes. "Open your eyes," he said tersely, "and admit to the truth. Accept that Lucifer was able to pull this off because of you and your family. You all gave him something he couldn't get otherwise, and he used that. He used you."

Chris averted his gaze for a moment, thinking. He didn't want to listen to Darius' self-serving comments, but that angry statement – _open your eyes, admit to the truth_ – struck too close to home for him to completely ignore. He could still remember it; the map spread out on the table, the harsh words the two of them had uttered, Wyatt's actions lingering between them. Chris had so desperately needed to believe that Wyatt would _only_ allow innocents to die if it served a strategic purpose, if it got him what he wanted, while Darius had repeatedly insisted that Wyatt had allowed his demons to kill all those innocents because he didn't care enough to stop them.

Darius had always believed the worst of Wyatt, saw him as nothing more than a villain that needed to be stopped, an evil that needed to be vanquished. He'd had no sympathy for Chris' inability to let go of the ties that bound him to Wyatt, of the childhood they had shared, of the boy the Twice Blessed had once been.

And Darius _had_ been wrong before. He did often misunderstand Wyatt's actions, focusing on the madman rather than the traumatized child underneath. But that time, studying that map and arguing over Wyatt's motives…

That time Darius had been _right_.

Chris swallowed. He'd worked with all types of evil in his past, making deals with anyone and anything that could potentially help him save Wyatt. He'd been able to swallow his pride and his anger to get the job done; to protect innocents, to save the world.

The Darius in the future had gotten under Chris' skin through his disparaging remarks about Wyatt, and Chris had still managed to work with him, and to eventually accept and acknowledge the times Darius turned out to be right.

There was no reason he couldn't do the same thing now.

Lucifer was a far greater threat than Wyatt had ever been, but facing him did give Chris one advantage – he didn't _care_ about Lucifer. He didn't have to constantly fight off the traitorous little voice that would remind him that he was plotting against his own family, against someone he loved more than anything.

"I agree; he needed the Charmed Ones and myself for something," Chris said at last.

His admission took Darius by surprise, and there was a moment of apprehensive silence. Then Darius cleared his throat and said, "Lucifer swore revenge after the last civil war." He was not looking at Chris, but rather gazing at the floor, once more lost in his own memories. "Against all of us, and against Michael in particular. He'd underestimated Michael during the war… we all did, actually."

Chris accepted that bit of information with some curiosity. Michael must have been the one to stop the civil war last time, or else why would Lucifer have been so intent on his destruction?

But Michael was dead – so there would be no answers from him.

Darius heaved a sigh. "Lucifer doesn't like to lose."

Chris thought of the gypsies and nodded. "So Lucifer must have been planning revenge since the moment he lost the first war," he said thoughtfully. He leaned forward. "He needed the right set of circumstances."

Darius considered this, then said, "I believe he had already found the weaknesses in our community, had already determined how to best exploit them to his advantage. But every fire needs that first spark, and that is what you provided for him." He gave Chris a quick, unreadable look. "What I still don't understand is _why_ he chose you."

Chris gave a bitter smile and replied sarcastically, "Besides he thinks I'm _special_?"

Darius raised an eyebrow.

Chris felt a bit foolish for bringing it up, and said casually, dismissively, "He told me that he admires me. He thinks destroying me would be a challenge – it surprised him, actually."

"Did he really say that?" Darius asked, leaning forward with sudden interest. "That is quite a compliment."

Chris stared at him blankly. "Seriously? The devil wants to destroy me because he likes a challenge, and I'm supposed to take it as a _compliment_? I mean, I get why _Lucifer_ thinks he's being generous telling me this, but why do _you_ think this is a good thing?"

But Darius didn't answer the question, his mind already moving on to the next concern. "If it surprised him that you were hard to destroy, he obviously expected it to be easier. Not _easy_, perhaps, but not quite as hard." He gave Chris a piercing look. "His sorceress approached you?"

Chris stood up and started pacing, trying to bring the memory back. He felt both incredibly exhausted and filled with nervous energy. "She brought him up several times, and I kept refusing. But then…"

"Then you agreed to meet with him," Darius said bluntly, "and fell prey to his silver tongue." He shook his head. "So it always goes." His tone wasn't exactly accusatory, but it was very clear that he thought Chris a fool for not knowing better. Chris bristled, but before he had a chance to defend himself – and, really, he had no idea what he would say because he _had_ been a fool to listen to the devil – Darius said, "But why did he approach you?"

Chris rubbed at his eyes, and said with some reluctance, "Well… I _was_ desperate."

Darius gave him a blank stare, then laughed outright. "Sometimes I forget how ridiculously self-centered you Halliwells are," he stated flatly. Again, Chris bristled, but Darius pressed on, "Do you honestly believe you are the only one who has ever been that desperate? That your problems are somehow so much bigger than everyone else's?"

"I was trying to save the world," Chris protested.

Darius huffed impatiently. "The world is always in danger, Christopher, and it always needs to be saved. Your family quite frequently believes that they alone are leading the charge against evil. And I will not deny that they have done many remarkable things – including vanquishing the Source and destroying the Titans. But they are not the only ones in this fight…" He gave Chris a bemused, patronizing look, "or did you think that evil exists primarily in San Francisco?"

Chris fumbled for an appropriate response. Though there were no geographical limits in the Underworld – and travel to and from the Underworld had to be done by magical means anyway – it was true that the Charmed Ones had focused mostly on the innocents under attack in San Francisco. And it was just as true that demons _didn't_ limit their attacks to only those in California.

But Chris still knew enough about the magical world to be able to point out, "But there are no other bloodlines as strong as the Warren line – not anymore. And there certainly isn't anyone else like Wyatt."

Darius inclined his head. "Agreed. But Lucifer does not need their power."

Chris closed his eyes, painful memories rushing back. After his mother had been killed, Wyatt had started taking his anger out on the Underworld. By the time Chris had finally faced just how much his brother had changed, accepted that this was not simply a phase, not a perfectly natural step in the grieving process, Wyatt had already vanquished an untold number of demons.

But it was the ones with influence, not power, that he had targeted, wiping them out and taking their place.

_Influence is power, little brother. You think about power as merely what you can do, but it is so much more than that. It's what other people are willing to do for you._

"The leprechauns like Paige," Chris said finally, sitting back on the sofa. "Piper befriended the Valkyries. And the fairies. All three of them helped the muses and the gypsies. And everyone knows what Leo did for the white-lighters and Elders when the Titans attacked. Lucifer knew that the sisters could – and would – ask for help, and that other magical beings would give it to them because of what they had done in the past."

"Their influence made them important?"

Chris nodded, and then said, "It's more than that, though." His thoughts were only partially formed, but he was sure that he was on to something, positive that he was starting to understand why Lucifer had targeted his family. "They rebelled."

"Rebelled?"

"Leo dated Piper against the Elders' wishes. They tried to get married without the Elders' permission. Phoebe fell in love with a demon, and let him go despite the Elders wish to have Balthazar vanquished. Paige _exists_ solely because Patty and her white-lighter broke the Elders' rules." He looked at Darius. "How many times have the Charmed Ones ignored your instructions in favor of their own judgment?" He paused, just long enough for Darius to give a reluctant nod of agreement, then added, "Has anyone else done that?"

"Not like that," Darius admitted. He frowned thoughtfully. "None of those magical beings who sided with the Charmed Ones in this war would have even _thought_ of fighting against the Elders if it was anyone other than your charges who had asked."

"Because the Charmed Ones have proven that the Elders are fallible, that it is possible to disagree with them and be _right_," Chris said.

More than their power, more than their heritage, _that_ was what made the Charmed Ones different, unique – they'd rebelled against the strict order imposed by the Elders, and they'd won.

_That_ was something Wyatt had made sure was in the history books.

"He knew they could start a civil war that no one else could," Darius murmured, nodding in agreement. "So he has been watching them, waiting for the right moment… But he didn't go after them. He went after you." He eyed Chris. "You gave him a weakness, a way of getting to your family, of manipulating them, that he wouldn't have had before. What was it?"

There wasn't an obvious answer to that, at least not one Chris could see. Part of him was inclined to believe that Lucifer had simply seen an opportunity with him and taken it, and that he could have done the same with Leo or Piper, or even Phoebe or Paige. But…

Something this important, Lucifer wouldn't have left to chance.

So why him?

He got up and started pacing again.

"Can't you sit still for even a few minutes?" Darius muttered, rolling his eyes.

But Chris couldn't. He was far too full of nervous energy, and he needed to pace to clear his mind.

It had not been uncommon for him to stay up all night in the future, pacing around the Resistance, puzzling over some bit of gathered intelligence, trying to make sense of his brother's actions. Sometimes Grandpa or Aunt Paige would track him down to offer advice and input, or to try to coax him into eating a little and getting some rest. More often Bianca would shove food at him and ask to hear his thoughts.

He'd rather be talking to any of them right now, but he wasn't. All he had was Darius, a rather unsuitable substitute. But he had to make do with what he had.

"My deal brought Lucifer into the family, but the sisters didn't really turn against you until after you took Leo," Chris said finally.

"Leo's behavior was… unexpected," Darius mused. At Chris' incredulous look, he explained, "Leo has been reckless in the past, particularly for those he loves – that is true. But there was a level of anger present that… well, it was surprising. I would not have ever assumed that he would attack the Council."

Chris chewed his lip, surprised that Leo had attacked the Council, and even more surprised that he was about to defend the man who would be his father. "Lucifer did that." Chris had little good to say about his father, but Leo had never been violent. The amount of anger that radiated from him after his brief tenure in Lucifer's care had been entirely unexpected, and no doubt something Lucifer had wanted. Perhaps if Leo had been calmer, had been more able to face the Elders with equanimity, things would have turned out differently.

Except, of course, that it wasn't all Lucifer. Gideon had done his own share of damage, and his betrayal had left scars.

"Interesting," Darius said, musing aloud. "If Lucifer was counting on Leo's rage to prevent him from being a voice of reason, it makes sense he would have gone after him. But he went after _you_ first. Why?"

"Because Leo never would have made the first deal," Chris replied immediately. "He never would have believed that there wasn't another choice, another option." After Chris had revealed the truth about Wyatt's future, Piper had overreacted, wanting to keep Wyatt from anything that could potentially feed negative emotions – such as the color red. But Leo hadn't. Despite everything, Leo had clung to the belief that Wyatt could and would be saved, that they would avert the future Chris had described.

He wouldn't have traded his soul for Wyatt because he would have believed that there was another way.

But he'd traded his soul for Chris because Lucifer already had Chris' soul at that point – and that meant that there _wasn't_ another way.

And Gideon's betrayal had left scars deep enough to cloud his judgment.

"Everyone in your family seems quite unworried with the idea of sacrifice," Darius said. "You traded your soul for your brother, Leo traded his soul for you, and then you made some other trade in order to get Leo back." He held up a hand to forestall Chris' protest, "I won't ask about that deal – I know you won't tell me, and it seems counterproductive to the matter at hand. But it is interesting how impossible any of you find it to let go. And Lucifer targeted you, because it was the easiest way in."

"Because I'm a fool, you mean," Chris snapped.

Darius shrugged. "Aren't you?"

* * *

><p>"Well, I think this Darius sounds like an idiot," Paige proclaimed as she slumped down on the sofa. "Don't listen to him, Chris."<p>

Her clothes were stained with blood, but she'd survived the battle Up There mostly intact. Neither Piper nor Phoebe had been as lucky, and they were currently wrapped in bandages and resting in their respective bedrooms. Piper had not liked returning to the Manor – it was too open, too exposed – but they'd had little choice. They were too injured to run about the Underworld at the moment.

And, anyway, with the Elders in such disarray, it seemed unlikely they'd be coming after the Charmed Ones now.

Chris was pacing. He looked frustrated, and Paige thought she saw in his expression a reflection of her own annoyance at being so helpless. It galled her. She was half white-lighter and her sisters needed healing powers right now – why didn't she have them?

Sunlight streamed in through the window. Paige glared at the clear blue sky, irrationally angry that it should look so cheerful outside.

"He's not an idiot," Chris said after a moment of silence. "He's an arrogant ass, but he's not an idiot."

Paige gave him a weary smile. "And he's on our side?"

"On our side? No, I wouldn't go quite _that_ far," Chris replied. "But he wants this war to end."

Paige frowned. She was certain that everyone on the side of Good wanted the war to end, but it was the difference in opinion on who exactly was at fault that concerned her.

She looked towards the stairs leading to the second floor. Chris hadn't arrived until after both Piper and Phoebe had fallen asleep – whether by chance or design, she was not sure. So it was just the two of them, alone. She knew Piper would want to be woken up and informed of Chris' return... but she had no desire to rouse her sisters as Chris seemed able to talk to her more freely than he would have with Piper present.

"What happened?" Chris asked, changing the subject.

Despite her reluctance to talk about any of it, Paige did not pretend to understand. "It was horrible," she confided in a low, strained voice. "I can't even…"

She closed her eyes, and the images flashed vividly through her mind. Blood staining white marble, smoke stinging her eyes, the cacophony of screams. Most of the Elders had tried to flee, very few equipped to fight back against the onslaught of Evil. She'd known that they were pacifists by nature, but she'd also known how powerful they were, and she'd never expected to see them slaughtered like helpless innocents.

Some had fought back – bought time for their brethren to escape. And they'd paid for it with their lives.

If the Elders had been at all surprised to find the Charmed Ones helping them, they hadn't shown it. Paige wasn't even sure that they'd recognized the witches at their side; nothing had been clear through the haze of the battle, and mostly she'd been confronted with blank faces and dazed expressions.

She would be having nightmares for a long while.

She opened her eyes and looked at Chris, feeling suddenly so very young and inexperienced. "What was it like in the future? Was it… I mean… were the battles like… like that?"

Chris didn't answer immediately. She knew he hadn't been Up There, hadn't witnessed the destruction and so could not make the comparison, but he must still have some idea of what an all out battle was like.

Then Chris let out a long, slow breath, and said in a nearly inaudible voice, "Some of them." He turned away from Paige, forced the subject away from the future. "Darius said some of the Elders were able to escape."

"Yes," Paige answered, trying in vain to feel pleasure in that. "We were able to help some, and I think several got out before we arrived." That _should_ count for something, but she couldn't work up the energy to be relieved. They'd lost so many, and, with an anxious glance at Chris' back, she wondered, "Will they be safe down here, though?"

Chris turned to face her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "I don't know," he said finally. "Leo was the one who protected them from the Titans. Hopefully they'll be smart enough to get some fairy dust or something… assuming any of the fairies are willing to help them."

Paige pursed her lips. "Do you really think they would refuse?"

Chris shrugged. "Maybe. A lot of beings are… _unhappy_… with the Elders right now." He started pacing again. "We shouldn't have run. We never should have let them chase us into the Underworld."

"What should we have done, then?" Paige demanded defensively. She didn't like the idea of hiding, either, but it wasn't as though they'd been given much of a choice. Besides, what difference would it have made? They had long since passed the point when they could have changed the outcome.

Chris shook his head, didn't answer for a moment. Then he said, "If I'd just told the Elders about the deal with Lucifer…"

"Don't be stupid," Paige snapped.

Chris spun to face her, an eyebrow raised. "Oh, so Darius is wrong when he calls me a fool, but you think I'm stupid?" he said, sounding far more irate the Paige thought reasonable. He looked tired, worn, and sounded defeated, "Wyatt would be good, and Leo would still be here, and…"

"And you'd be gone," Paige interjected softly.

"We are talking about one person against the entire magical community," Chris muttered, glaring at her. "What is my life compared to all of that?"

Paige studied Chris for a moment. She knew what he thought she would say in reply, just as she knew how both Piper and Phoebe would have responded. And she couldn't deny that she was concerned by his insistence on this – it fed into a martyr complex that was starting to seriously worry her.

But she knew that those replies would fall on deaf ears, so she instead went with the logical argument, "Would it have made a difference?"

Chris stared at her.

She shifted on the sofa, wincing in pain. She'd escaped any serious injuries, but her torso was still covered in bruises, and everything hurt. "If you and your Elder friend are correct, and Lucifer has been waiting for this opportunity for so long, do you really think it would have _mattered_ if you had told the Elders? Wouldn't he have just found a way around that obstacle?"

Chris hissed out a breath, clearly not wanting to agree with her statement; but he had no arguments, so he lapsed into silence.

"What we should have done is irrelevant," Paige added in resignation. "We're here, now, and we just have to deal with it."


	28. Further Into the Dark

Chapter Twenty-Four: Further Into the Dark

The girl's name was Anne.

David clung to that bit of information as he sat, bewildered and overwhelmed, on the lumpy sofa in her dingy apartment. She paced erratically, stumbling on her injured ankle, eyes darting towards the windows and the door, her words coming in frantic, uneven bursts.

"I'm Anne. And I'm… well. See – I'm a witch. And those things that attacked, they're… I don't know. Warlocks? Talia usually tells me, but she's not… Anyway. I don't have a lot of power. Just the screaming thing. And I can't really control it." She spun to face him. "But I didn't hurt you. How is that… possible? Talia said-" Again, she stopped, tears abruptly filling her eyes. She turned away and continued her pacing. "I wish she was here."

David nodded. Her name was Anne. He was going to stick with that, because it was the only thing she'd said that made any sense whatsoever.

"I'm David," he offered finally, deciding he should attempt to introduce himself. He didn't know why, but he still felt the need to help her, regardless of how crazy she sounded.

He looked down. He was still holding her wallet.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes following his gaze, and frowned.

"You left it at the bar," David explained quickly, holding it out to her apologetically. "That's why I came out after you. I just wanted to return it."

She snatched the wallet and then took a few steps backwards, away from him, as though suddenly realizing she had invited a stranger – and older, male stranger – into her home.

Again, her eyes darted to the window, to the door.

Then she opened the wallet, flipping through it quickly to check that everything was still there.

"You really should sit down," David said after a moment of tense silence, trying to keep his voice gentle. "You're just making your ankle worse."

Anne glared at him defiantly. "I'm fine," she snapped, though the statement was undercut by a sudden wince as she shifted weight from one foot to the other. She dropped her wallet onto the table near the door and folded her arms over her chest, still glaring.

"Obviously, you're not," David countered softly. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and added, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"No," she said, her tone hard and flat, "you're _not_."

But she limped awkwardly over to the folding chair opposite him and sat down heavily. Her red-and-purple hair flopped over her eyes, and suddenly she looked so very young, and so very scared. Hugging herself tightly, she lifted her chin and glanced towards the ceiling. For a moment, David thought has simply avoiding making eye contact, but then she called out abruptly, "Talia!"

There was no response.

David raised an eyebrow. "Does she… live above you?" he ventured hesitantly. It seemed like a strange way to try to reach someone, shouting at them through the ceiling, but he couldn't think of anything else that made sense.

Of course, she'd been talking about witches and warlocks just a moment before, so…

Anne stared blankly at him. "She always comes when I call," she whispered, shaking her head. "Oh, God – it's all true, isn't it?" And without any more explanation, she buried her head in her hands and started to sob.

David started to reach towards her, then paused. He knew, somehow, that she would not welcome the comfort. She was trying her best to keep everything together, to hide her emotions from him, and she would not thank him for bearing witness to her inexplicable grief.

He dropped his arm to his side and looked away, studying the studio apartment.

The bed was pressed up against the far wall, half-hidden behind a rumpled curtain. There was a dresser peaking through the curtain as well, and a tall floor lamp. The living-and-kitchen area had a card table, two folding chairs, and the sofa all arranged haphazardly as though Anne had given little thought to where they belonged. The floor was covered in a threadbare rug of brightly-colored geometric shapes.

It was small and clearly pieced together, but it had a strangely welcoming feel. It was… homey.

David sighed.

Anne lifted her head and rubbed at her red-rimmed eyes. "So who are you, anyway?" she demanded hoarsely.

"Like I said before, I'm David," he replied. "David… Smith."

The girl laughed mockingly, her brave mask back in place. "If you're going to give a fake name, you really should pick one that sounds a bit more believable," she countered accusingly.

"I…" David chewed his lip. What could he say? If she didn't believe that his name was really David Smith, would she believe that he was suffering from amnesia? That he'd simply forgotten everything about himself, about his past life? _That_ story sounded so far-fetched, even he had trouble believing it, and he was the one living through it.

Anne glared at him.

Desperate to change the topic, David asked, "What did you mean when you said it was all true? _What_ is all true?"

"If this is some kind of really long con you're playing…"

"I'm not," David interrupted. "I don't – I don't have an agenda here. I was really just trying to return your wallet, and then…" He shrugged a bit helplessly. He still didn't understand what had happened.

Or why he was sitting here, trying to gain the trust of a girl who could apparently scream like a… a…

"What's that mythical creature that screams?" David asked, drawing a blank on the name he was searching for.

"A banshee," Anne replied automatically. "But I'm not one of them. Although Talia said the power is similar. But banshees feed on grief."

"Uh… okay."

Anne gave him a searching look. "You really have no idea about any of this, do you?" she said after a long moment. "But if you're just a mortal, why didn't my scream hurt you?"

"Oh, trust me," David said grimly, remembering the pressure of her voice drowning him, "it hurt."

"Not like it should have," Anne protested resolutely. "If you're not magical…"

"Magical?" David asked sharply. _Magical_? Remembering Anne's earlier statement – one that made as little sense now as it had before – he asked skeptically, "Like a witch?"

"_Yes_," Anne answered emphatically. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"A _witch_."

David blinked, and said the first thing that came to mind, "Aren't witches female?"

Anne shook her head in bewilderment. "You really don't know," she muttered She sounded disappointed, as though she had hoped he was someone else, or something else.

She looked away from him, and ran a hand through her hair, yanking roughly at the knots.

"I'm sorry," he offered, not really sure what he was apologizing for. Was he sorry that he couldn't give her any information, or was he sorry that he wasn't the person she was hoping for? Or were those two really both the same thing anyway?

Anne stood up. "You should go," she said flatly, dismissing him with a wave towards the door.

David leaned forward. "Are you sure I can't help?" he asked, strangely reluctant to leave.

The girl shook her head. "No," she said. "No – I need..." She trailed off, heaved a sigh. "I need Talia," she muttered under her breath, tilting her head back to glance up at the ceiling again.

"Maybe I can help you find Talia?" David suggested. _That_ seemed unlikely – how could he help her find anyone when he couldn't even figure out his own identity? And yet… underneath the determination, underneath the tenacity, Anne looked so young, so scared, so _alone_, and he didn't want to just leave her.

But Anne shook her head. "No – no, thank you." There was a crack in her façade, a desperation that David glimpsed only for a moment. But then it was gone, flickering away, and she said, "If you really aren't a part of this, I can't get you involved. You'd just be in danger, and it's too much of a risk."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of what I am willing to risk?" David argued.

She gave him a sad, lonely smile. "Because I am who I am. And you're an innocent." She turned away from him, limping over to the window. "I wanted you to be someone else, I guess. I wanted you to be able to help me. I thought – I mean, since my scream didn't hurt you… well, I hoped you were different."

David heard the resolve in her voice, and accepted it with a reluctant nod. He couldn't force her to take his help, and he wasn't sure he'd be any help anyway.

And she was probably crazy.

Maybe he had to let her go.

He rose from the sofa and started towards the door. He paused there, debating giving her his motel room phone number. It couldn't hurt, could it? That way, if she changed her mind and decided she wanted his help after all, she would have a way of reaching him.

He turned back to make the offer.

At the same moment, Anne said, "I was hoping maybe the Elders had sent you."

David froze.

"_What_?" he asked hoarsely.

Anne turned around and stared at him, surprised by the sudden change in his demeanor. The surprise was immediately replaced by suspicion, which flared in her eyes as she narrowed her gaze.

"That word," David said, moving towards her rapidly. She tensed, as though afraid he might attack, and he felt a strange, half-mad certainty rising in his chest. That word – Elders.

He shook his head, trying to organize his thoughts. His dreams, the names and words that had echoed in his mind…

"Elders. I _know_ that word."

* * *

><p>Anne swirled a spoon around in her cup of tea and stared hard at David. "You're serious? This is all… you are really serious about all this?"<p>

David gave a wan smile and took a sip of his own tea from the chipped cup Anne had handed him. "Yes," he said emphatically, hoping he could adequately convey his sincerity. Hoping he could make her believe.

"This is crazy," Anne muttered. She drummed her fingers against the table, still skeptical, still unsure. "You just… woke up with no memory of anything? And then started having weird dreams that you can only just barely remember?" She shook her head. "I don't believe you. It's crazy."

It was not, David reflected, any more crazy than the fact that she was asking him to believe in witches and magic.

But he doubted she'd respond well to that, so instead he said a bit desperately, "I don't know what else to say." He'd laid out his whole story for Anne, told her everything that he could remember, ending with the dreams. He had nothing else to offer, no other way to prove his trustworthiness, but he needed her to believe him.

For the first time since he'd woken up with no idea who he was, he finally felt like he was _close_ to something.

"It's the truth," he continued.

Anne exhaled slowly. "And the word Elders sounds familiar to you?" She chewed her lip. "Well… that's weird, too."

"Why is that weird?" David asked, demanded.

Anne hesitated, still not sure she should be revealing this much to him, but said at last, "If you were a witch, you probably never actually interacted with them. Your white-lighter would have done that for you."

A witch? When did she suddenly come to the conclusion that he was a witch?

"But aren't witches female?"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Obviously not," she retorted, "or I wouldn't have referred to you as one." She leaned forward, gazing at him with an intensity that should have been off-putting. And yet it wasn't – and David found himself more and more drawn to her.

Her gaze flicked, once again, to the window and then to the door.

David wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand, tell her that everything would be alright.

He didn't – he was fairly certain that she wasn't the type who like being touched. He knew – instinctively – she did not want that kind of comfort, didn't want anything that could be seen as pity. She was still on guard around him, even if she was opening up a bit more.

So instead, David focused on what she had said and asked, "What's a white-lighter?"

"It's like a… a guardian angel," Anne explained. She curled fingers around her cup and stared at the liquid intently. Her words were slow, unsteady. "They watch over good witches and mortals who have important destinies. When I first met Talia, I thought she was just a friend." She looked up with a rueful smile. "Albeit a friend who kept showing up exactly when I needed someone to help me." Her expression grew serious, and she continued, "Then, when my powers – the screaming thing – started going out of control, Talia told me who she really was."

"And what are Elders?" David asked impatiently. It wasn't that he was uninterested in Anne's story, but he desperately needed to know _more_.

"Uh… I'm not really sure. Talia said they're like… well, they're the people who assigned her to watch over me. And they have a lot of knowledge. I – Talia would always go to them when she needed information or… or advice." She swirled her spoon in her tea again, and David noted that she had yet to take a sip. "Talia didn't tell me about the Elders until recently, and I've never met one." She gave David a searching look. "It's weird that _they_ would be what you remember. Not your white-lighter or any other witches, not even your family…"

"And Christopher Halliwell doesn't mean anything to you?" David interrupted.

Anne shook her head. Her nervousness had all but faded now, yet she still had that same slightly-skittish look in her eyes. "Sorry. I don't really know many witches, though. I've kind of been on the outskirts of things. I don't really do a lot with my magic. All it does is get me in trouble."

David frowned. "I don't know – that scream? Kind of seems like it makes you special."

Anne blinked at him, then burst out laughing. The laughter turned almost immediately into sobs, and she pushed her untouched tea away and rubbed angrily at her eyes, trying to stop the tears.

"Sorry," she muttered, choking on the words, "it's just that that is _exactly_ what Talia said."

David winced. He hadn't meant to bring up bad memories, and it was clear that Anne was afraid for her white-lighter. "You think something happened to her?" he questioned softly.

Anne nodded and looked at him, flicking red-and-purple hair out of her eyes. "White-lighters can hear when a charge calls for them. She always hears me, and she always comes. But she hasn't come in the past couple of days and I…" She shrugged in a would be nonchalant manner, but her voice was rough as she added, "She would come if she was able to." She licked her lips, then admitted with great reluctance, "When you first showed up, when my scream didn't hurt you… I thought maybe the Elders had sent you to tell me what had happened to Talia."

She looked away quickly, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

David accepted this in silence. Anne was obviously grieving for Talia, already assuming the worse. And he couldn't imagine how frustrating it was for her to think she was finally about to get answers and then find out she was merely burdened with a man who had only questions.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Anne said with forced bravery, "Not your fault that you're not a white-lighter. And I'll be fine. I'm sure the Elders will remember me eventually." She picked up her tea and finally took a sip. She wouldn't meet David's gaze as she tried to regain control over her emotions.

David used the momentary lull in the conversation to think over everything he'd learned. He'd been forced to suspend his disbelief during the whole conversation, and some rational part of his brain kept reminding him that everything Anne was saying was crazy, and he was crazy for even listening. But a larger part of him wanted this to be real because finally, _finally_, he was starting to have some idea of who he might have been.

Well, sort of.

"Those men who attacked you…?"

"I think they were warlocks, although I don't know for sure," Anne answered. "My gift is rare, so sometimes warlocks come after me to try to steal it."

"Sometimes? How often is sometimes?"

Anne wrapped her fingers around her cup again. "Not that often," she said with a wry smile. "Talia said I wasn't powerful enough for killing me to be a boost in prestige, but my scream is dangerous enough that attacking me isn't something warlocks would do on a whim. So that protects me on two counts." She glanced towards the window. "But it's been getting worse – a lot worse. First Talia stopped showing up, and now I've been attacked multiple times in the past couple days. I don't know what is going on, but it's bad."

David remembered the woman he had seen murdered in the parking lot, the assailant who had disappeared so completely in the blink of an eye.

"Yes," he agreed softly, "it is."

"You know," Anne said abruptly, "if you lost your memories for a magical reason, we could probably get them back with a spell. I'm not really good at that sort of thing, but I have a friend who might be able to help. I'll call her tonight."

David smiled gratefully, and they arranged that he would return the following afternoon.

* * *

><p>As the woman before him went up in flames, Chris couldn't help but wonder what exactly it said about him that he was dealing with his frustration by vanquishing sorceresses. It probably wasn't the most healthy coping mechanism. He was still resorting to violence to work through his issues, even if sorceresses were evil. Grandpa would have disapproved.<p>

But Chris wasn't in the future; he was here, in this miserable past, and _God_ –

He slammed his fist into the wall of the cave.

He hated it.

Paige had given him _that_ look.

He'd seen it before. They'd all worn it – Aunt Paige, Grandpa, Bianca. The look tended to precede Grandpa's gentle reminder that Chris didn't need to bear all these burdens alone, or Bianca's huffy impatience when Chris pulled away from her. But with Aunt Paige, it always indicated the beginning of a lecture about how Chris was just as important as Wyatt, and that lecture would eventually evolve into a speech about Chris' martyr complex and how much it worried her…

He'd hated those conversation, but he'd still found it easy to confide in Aunt Paige.

_This_ Paige was surprisingly easy to talk to as well. She didn't come with the same emotional baggage that was constantly present whenever he interacted with Piper.

And Phoebe was only interested in keeping the peace. It was understandable, Chris knew, because her empathic abilities made any argument physically painful to witness, but all too often that meant that she insisted on everyone ignoring their own feelings in order to get along.

But Chris could express an opinion and trust that Paige would actually _listen_ to what he was saying. And he'd wanted – _needed_ – to talk to someone about his conversation with Darius. He needed to reason through everything the Elder had said, and everything he hadn't said. He needed to brainstorm what this all meant, needed someone with whom he could bounce around ideas without having to constantly be on guard, without having to maintain the shattered remnants of his emotional walls.

But now Chris had seen _that_ look in _this_ Paige's eyes, and he just _couldn't_. So he'd given some mumbled, half-formed excuse about needing to check on things in the Underworld and he'd orbed.

And now the sorceress had turned to ash, the remnants of her body floating in midair for a moment before making their lazy way towards the ground.

"Are you trying to get my attention?"

The voice crept under Chris' skin.

He turned slowly.

"Vanquishing sorceresses," Lucifer said softly, running his fingers over the lines of his well-tailored suit. "Specially targeting beings I'm known to most frequently work with." He tilted his head to the side, regarding Chris with frank interest. "I truly can't tell if you are trying to get my attention or if you are simply letting off steam."

He was holding his sunglasses in one hand, and Chris felt an irrational desire to grab the stupid thing from the devil's grasp and crush it until the lenses turned to dust.

"Letting off steam," Chris answered. "Though the fact that you admire sorceresses more than any other agent of evil is admittedly why I picked them."

Yes, Grandpa and Leo would have most certainly disapproved. He could almost hear their lectures in his head. _I'm not angry Chris. I'm just disappointed…_

"Hm… well, you clearly did not inherit your father's pacifist tendencies if this is how you deal with your frustration," Lucifer meditated. He smiled, wrinkles crinkling at the corners of those blue eyes.

Chris laughed hollowly. "My father is _not_ a pacifist," he said bitterly. Leo was definitely not a pacifist in the future, no matter how times he hypocritically preached it.

Lucifer's smile grew. "Of course he is," he said casually. "I won't deny he has some anger issues…"

"Anger issues _you_ gave him," Chris accused.

"I did not _give_ him anything," Lucifer defended himself, waving away the accusation as though he couldn't be bothered to answer it. But he continued anyway, "Gideon's betrayal left all those wonderful scars. I merely forced him to confront that anger." He'd been leaning casually against the wall of the Underworld cave, and now stepped forward. "But who a person is, and who circumstances force them to be, are often _quite_ different. Really, Christopher, you of all people should know _that_."

Chris didn't answer. His memories of his father were too clouded by his own biases, but he supposed that Leo had been more of a pacifist – and a rule-abiding white-lighter – before he'd met Piper. Still, Chris had never met _that_ Leo, and both this time's version of him and the father Chris had known growing up had been different.

"He died fighting in a war," Chris said finally.

"He didn't _fight_. He was a doctor, not a soldier," Lucifer replied, "and he was considered a hero by many who survived that particular battle because he refused to back down from his mission to save people even while under fire."

Chris gave him a long, questioning look.

"I wasn't there," Lucifer answered the silent question. "I had nothing to do with that battle. Actually, I didn't even have anything to do with the man Hitler became. Although," he smiled chillingly, "the 1940s were still a very busy time for me."

Chris didn't even want to contemplate the meaning of _that_ statement, so instead he said, "I know what your endgame is."

"Civil war and the ultimate destruction of Good," Lucifer replied blandly. "It's rather obvious at this point, isn't it?" He studied Chris intently, then said with a sigh, "You know, you're a bit less fun now."

"Fun?"

But Lucifer didn't answer the question. Instead, he walked further into the cave, circling around the pile of ash that had been a sorceresses. "That is number six today. You keep this up, and we'll run out of sorceresses soon." He glanced at Chris and smiled mockingly, "Though evil does always have a way of coming back eventually."

Chris folded his arms over his chest. He'd hoped that vanquishing evil would make him feel better – or, at the very least, make him forget _that_ look on Paige's face. It hadn't, really – but he had taken vindictive pleasure in knowing he was depriving Lucifer of those he most valued.

And again, he wondered bitterly, what did that say about him?

"Aren't you going to argue?" Lucifer asked, and he sounded almost plaintive. "I was really hoping for some whole speech about how Good will always triumph over Evil. This defeatist attitude of yours…" He shook his head. "It's disappointing."

"You _want_ me to fight you?" Chris demanded.

"It's more fun," Lucifer answered with a disinterested shrug. "Although I suppose I should respect the fact that you can admit when you have lost. So few people in your family can do _that_."

Chris felt the anger bubbling in his chest. It hit him suddenly – the realization taking his breath away. Lucifer didn't _care_ anymore. As far as the devil was concerned, he'd already won.

"You – you only care about _fun_," Chris snarled, the words pouring from his lips in a sudden surge of rage. "All the lives you've destroyed, everything you've taken from us… you've won, and you're _already_ bored."

"Well… yes." The devil sounded nonplussed, and even a little surprised, as though he didn't understand why Chris was so upset.

Chris turned away, only just able to keep his anger in check. He would have loved to attack Lucifer, to beat the devil with his bare hands. But he doubted Lucifer would so easily allow himself to be caught, and even if Chris did manage to land a blow, it would accomplish nothing.

How could he defeat the devil when the devil had already won? As far as Lucifer was concerned, the battle was _over_. The civil war would run its course, and either the Elders would find common ground once more or they wouldn't. But the outcome didn't matter, because the war had _happened_.

Chris buried his hands in his hair, his fingers digging into his scalp.

"Oh. Now you're more interesting again."

"Shut up," Chris spat.

"No, really." Lucifer walked idly around Chris, circling him. "All that rage. I like it."

"Yes, I know. You find me a challenge," Chris growled sarcastically.

"I do," Lucifer agreed, "though I found you more of a challenge before you gave me your soul." Chris raised an eyebrow, and he hurried on as though trying to be reassuring, "I still find you a challenge now. But you can't hide your emotions _at all_. You are so much easier to read, wearing your heart on your sleeve."

"You don't know anything about me," Chris snapped back defiantly.

"Don't I?" Lucifer replied. He was still circling Chris in a predatory manner, and Chris found himself having to turn in circles as well to keep the devil in his sights.

He folded his arms over his chest, waiting.

Lucifer smiled thinly. "She's not your mother. This version of Piper – she's not the woman you know, not the one who raised you, who protected you, who loved you. You know this, logically, rationally. You even know it emotionally most of the time. But it has been getting harder, hasn't it? Every now and then, you catch a brief, tantalizing glimpse – your mother's eyes staring at you from Piper's face."

"I never had a problem with it before," Chris muttered sourly. That wasn't _entirely_ true, of course. But it had been so much easier to think of Mom and Piper as two completely separate entities before he'd sold his soul. Any similarities between the two had been easy to ignore, or to explain away as coincidence.

Chris rubbed at his eyes.

"You had better barriers before," Lucifer answered. "You had better control of your emotions before."

Chris felt the anger flaring again. Lucifer was so casually discussing this, as though he hadn't been the one to shatter Chris' barriers, as though he wasn't entirely responsible for everything. "Why did you do this to me?" he demanded. "Was it just for fun? To watch me stumble every time I talked to _her_? Because I was a challenge?"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. He was silent for a long moment, contemplating his options. He couldn't lie, but he could twist his words any way he wanted, and Chris was reminded quite forcefully of all the times that he'd warned the sisters not to believe a word Lucifer said.

"I did not expect this outcome," Lucifer replied finally. "I thought you would go insane. Most people do, when they can no longer control their emotions." He shrugged. "You surprised me."

Chris didn't reply.

Lucifer continued casually, "Your predicament is still fascinating to me, though, even if you didn't end up insane." He gave Chris a sudden, sharp look, and said as though just realizing it, "I suppose you could always go crazy later. Maybe it is just a delayed process…" and he trailed off with a thoughtful frown.

And Chris realized abruptly that Lucifer hadn't planned this. He didn't know why Chris hadn't gone crazy.

That was both somewhat comforting and incredibly disturbing.

"You thought things would be different," Chris mused.

"So did you," Lucifer answered biting. "At least you hoped. You told yourself that the sisters would be different from the people you remembered. You told yourself that you could keep them separate in your mind, that you could lie and manipulate them and it wouldn't matter because they weren't really family. Not yet." He stopped his circling and stepped closer to Chris. "But there was some tiny part of you that didn't want that to be true."

Chris swallowed.

Bianca had warned him, Aunt Paige had warned him, Grandpa had warned him. And he'd nodded and agreed and brushed aside their concerns, assuring them and himself that he would have no problem doing what needed to be done.

But.

The Charmed Ones – all the Halliwells – fought for family. They never gave up, not ever. Not until death. They stick together, supporting each other through idiotic mistakes and dangerous battles and furious arguments. For the first fourteen years of his life, nothing could have ever driven his family apart – excluding Leo, _always_ excluding Leo – and that simple truth had pervaded every aspect of his life.

And some infinitesimally small part of him, some tiny voice he didn't let himself listen to, wanted that. He wanted to travel to a past where he was known and loved, where he had his family on his side, where he didn't have to do this all alone.

"You look at Piper and you see your mother. Not because she's actually there, but because you _want_ her to be. Because you're tired of being alone." Chris closed his eyes in a desperately childlike desire to block out the truth, and he heard Lucifer laugh softly and murmur, "Yes, you _are_ still interesting now."

Chris seethed. Lucifer was taunting him, laughing, mocking, so confident, so assured of his own success. He had managed to thoroughly devastate Good, and he'd left his fingerprints all over the damage. No one would forget what he had done – not for a very long time, if ever.

Chris' eyes snapped open. The pieces clicked into place.

And he smiled.

And as he orbed away, the last thing Chris saw was the devil's blue eyes narrowed in contemplation.

* * *

><p>"Surely the Elder will let us have a white-lighter now," Piper muttered as she shifted her weight painfully against the pillows propping her up and gave both her sisters a once-over. They were perched on the edge of her bed, battered and bruised, but still standing, and for that she was incredibly grateful.<p>

Every part of her hurt, and it was a bitter reminder of how much she'd been taking Leo for granted over the past few years. Since the moment he'd revealed who he was, he'd been at their sides when they most desperately needed healing, even breaking the rules and getting his wings clipped in order to save her. Despite the ever-present danger in their lives, Leo's ability had protected them from pain…

Well, mostly. He hadn't been able to save Prue.

She pushed that thought away and touched her stomach lightly with her fingers, worried.

"You can't fight anymore, sweetie," Phoebe said gently, her empathy picking up on traces of Piper's fear.

Piper nodded. "I know," she admitted. There was something ironic about how this had happened – just when her desire to fight evil had finally reawakened, when she had put aside her own emotional pain to focus on the destruction happening all around them, it was just at that moment of realization that she'd been forced to concede that she couldn't. The risk to Chris was unthinkable.

"But we can't just… not do anything," Paige said desperately. She closed her eyes, pale and drawn. "We have to help, we have to…" She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"We have to do something," Piper agreed, "but I don't know _what_."

She couldn't stop the emptiness from spreading through her chest. It felt like the Titans all over again – only worse. Leo was gone, the community of Good was in disarray, the Elders had fled from Up There, and yet again, the Charmed Ones were left to pick up the pieces.

Only this time there were no easy answers. Vanquishing the Titans had been challenging, but in the end, a vanquish was still just a vanquish. Succeed, and it was over. The Elders had come back, the world had moved on, and if Leo's _promotion_ had left its undeniable mark, it was at least a loss she had been able to bear.

But how were they supposed to fix this? They couldn't vanquish Lucifer, and even if they could, did it matter? Lucifer wasn't the enemy anymore – now they were fighting each other, and Piper wasn't about to vanquish the Elders… although it was often a tempting thought.

"Chris was here," Paige said after a moment. Piper and Phoebe looked at her, surprised, and she elaborated, "You were both asleep. And he only stopped by for a moment."

"But you talked to him?" Piper asked enviously. She couldn't keep the resentment from flaring, even if she knew that Chris' distance wasn't Paige's fault. Still, she'd seen how Chris acted around Paige, noticed that he was more comfortable with her, and Piper could not deny that she was bitterly jealous.

Phoebe squirmed slightly at Piper's words, but if Paige noticed her tone, she didn't show it. Instead, she said, "For a moment. He'd met with an Elder… Darius, I think? I guess Chris knows him in the future." She pursed her lips. "He sounded arrogant and egotistical."

"So a typical Elder," Piper cut in, rolling her eyes and breaking some of the tension. Paige grinned, and Piper asked, "But was he any help?"

"Um… yes and no," Paige said wearily. She hesitated, then said, "I'm worried about Chris."

"Why? Was he hurt?" Piper demanded, immediately frantic. She leaned forward, pushing through the pain in her abdomen. If something had happened to Chris…

"Not in the way you're thinking," Paige said quickly, softly. She met Piper's worried gaze, her eyes somber. She slanted a quick look at Phoebe, then turned back to Piper and said, "He and Darius were able to reason out why Lucifer came after us, and why he went after Chris specifically. And Chris…" She chewed her lip anxiously. "Chris blames himself. For everything."

"That's ridiculous," Phoebe said sharply, speaking before Piper could express her own outrage. "Is this because he didn't tell the Elders about the second deal?"

"Yes. But it's also more than that," Paige explained. "Chris thinks that Lucifer came after us because we have so much… influence… in the magical world. And that he went after Chris specifically because Chris was desperate enough to take the first deal."

"That deal saved Wyatt!" Piper protested, falling back against the pillows with an exhausted sigh.

"But it also started the war," Paige replied. Piper glared at her, and she held her hands up quickly, defensively. "I'm not saying this is Chris' fault. _I_ don't believe that. But Chris does."

Piper closed her eyes.

If she had known where all of this would lead, would she have stopped Chris from making the first deal with Lucifer?

The answer to that was immediate and emphatic – _yes_. Although she could never regret saving Wyatt from his future fate, Chris' soul had not been an acceptable trade. She could not sacrifice one son in order to save the other.

Of course, she _had_ allowed Chris' decision at the time, and that memory brought only self-recrimination no matter how many times she tried to justify her actions by the fact that she hadn't known Chris was her son. She _should_ have known, and she never should have let him sacrifice himself.

Except, of course, that if Chris _hadn't_ been her son…

She would have grieved the loss of the white-lighter who had turned out to be more devoted to her future than she'd ever expected, but protecting Wyatt would have come first. Chris' sacrifice would have been worth it.

If he hadn't been her son.

Did it make her a bad person that she would have been willing to accept that sacrifice from anyone other than her son? Or did it simply make her a mother?

She couldn't answer that question. Or maybe she just didn't want to answer it.

Phoebe's voice cut into her rambling thoughts, "Chris saved Wyatt. Even if that brought Lucifer into our lives, he has nothing to feel guilty about. He didn't start this war."

Piper opened her eyes.

"But that's just the thing," Paige said heavily, "he thinks he did. He thinks he was a fool to make the deal with Lucifer, that he started all of this, that it is his fault – and Darius certainly didn't do anything to make him feel _less_ guilty. And he thinks…" She paused, gaze swiveling back and forth between Piper and Phoebe, then she said in a rush, "And I get the feeling that he thinks he should be the one to sacrifice for it."

"What?" Phoebe demanded.

At the same time, Piper said firmly, harshly, "No! I will not have Chris sacrificing anything else for this family."

"I don't think you could stop him if he really wanted to," Phoebe murmured worriedly. She reached out to squeeze Piper's arm reassuringly, but said anyway, "He inherited your stubbornness."

"But that's not… it's more complicated than just that," Paige pushed on, ignoring Piper's outburst. "Chris has this martyr complex."

Piper shook her head. "He doesn't seek out pain and suffering," she argued. "He doesn't want to carry the weight of the future on his shoulders. He didn't have a choice. That's not a martyr complex."

Her words were laced with guilt. He should have had a choice. She should have protected him better in the future, should have assisted him more in the past. He was her son, and he never should have been forced into all of this.

How had she failed both of her children so badly?

Paige stared at Piper for a long moment, clearly wrestling with what to say. Then, finally, she countered, "He might not actively seek out sacrifice, but… I think, when presented with the opportunity to protect someone else, he will always take it, no matter what it costs him. I think he believes that he _should_ sacrifice. That it's his responsibility. It's almost like… like every single thing that goes wrong in his fault."

Frowning, Phoebe asked, "How do we convince him that it isn't? That he doesn't have to do everything alone?"

But Paige didn't have an answer.

Piper rubbed her eyes, wishing she had something to say, a suggestion now that Paige had fallen silent. But she didn't – and what kind of mother didn't know how to keep her own son from throwing away his life?

"I've seen kids like that," Paige murmured. "Children who just… so much had fallen apart in their family, and they always thought it was their fault. I remember this one girl who… God, she was just a kid and she… We had to put all three children in foster care, and she asked me if her little brother and sister could stay with their parents if she went away… would that make everything alright again? If she left, could the family stay together…" She resolutely met Piper's gaze. "When I look at Chris, that's what I see. The belief that our family would be intact if he told the Elders the truth."

"No," Piper whispered, horrified. "No. I won't let him do that. I won't let him throw his soul away through some misguided belief that… that… that we'd be better off without him."

"Piper…"

Piper shoved the blankets back, ready to drag herself out of bed and to hell with all the pain. "I know the world is falling apart. I know that we have to stop it, and I know that we have no idea how. And I know that Evil seems to be winning and Leo is gone and maybe none of this would have happened if Chris hadn't taken that first deal but I don't _care_. Because I also know that this world is _better_ with Chris in it."

It was at that very moment that Chris orbed into the bedroom and announced without preamble, "I have to tell the Elders about the deal I made with Lucifer."


End file.
